


Are you still kidding me?

by Diamondmask



Series: You have got to be kidding me [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Depression, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Politics, Recovery, Same-Sex Marriage, Slice of Life, Slow Build, what happens in happily ever after
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-01 16:22:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 107,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diamondmask/pseuds/Diamondmask
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This a sequel to You Have Got to Be Kidding Me. </p><p>Arthur and Merlin are now committed in a Civil Partnership and finally get to live to together. Merlin is still recovering from the injuries he received in the motorcycle crash and Arthur is coping with losing his Ministerial position as well as his Parliamentary seat. Both are exploring what it means to live together and how to build a future where they can both grow. </p><p>On the way they find bumps, potholes and occasional craters on the road but they also learn more about love.  And possibly: Apple trees, cars, public seating, weather, and cats. Not necessarily in that order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Moving In

Moving in

Merlin sat in his chair as he watched Arthur fumble with the keys. It was chilly and a spiting rain was starting and Merlin shivered as he waited. Despite the chill, he was happy. He clutched a flat package in his good hand. He hadn’t opened it but he knew what it was. Elena had been very specific. 

 

After the partnership ceremony Merlin had braced himself for the media scrum outside. He was determined not to let Arthur down and had not even objected to the chair, not wanting to stagger on camera. He had put his foot down on a public kiss, but Arthur was equally adamant so that was not a problem. Arthur was asked most of the questions and answered them with his usual ease. One was directed at Merlin, asking about a honeymoon. Arthur had answered that they had no plans and Merlin had looked up laughingly, saying: 

 

“If we do, it really should be a palace” Arthur had laughed back and neither had noticed the flurry of whirrs and clicks that followed. 

 

The next day versions of the picture were on the front page of every newspaper, serious broadsheets included and even the Yell could not come up with a scathing tag line. Merlin knew his mum had gotten a copy of her favourite version and was having it framed and the package he now held contained a framed copy sent by Elena. Her explanatory email said that every couple had soppy wedding pictures displayed and why should they be different. Merlin knew how much she wanted her own and knew he would honour her wish. And besides, looking at the picture, looking at Arthur’s face in the picture made him feel safer than he ever did before. 

 

Another effect of Merlin’s throw away comment was an invitation to spend their ‘honeymoon’ at the hotel at Doonshee. Merlin was very dubious but it appeared that Ms O’Donnell, having had some trouble with the bank, had sold up and the new owner was Mrs. Brennan’s daughter, whose wedding Arthur and Merlin had accidently attended. 

They had gone to Donegal but it was not exactly a honeymoon on a tropical beach. The weather for their out of season week was stormy and though Merlin loved to see a stormy ocean, his still healing injuries meant he could not walk on the beach or trek up to the waterfall. Instead they hired a car and Merlin watched as Arthur hoicked the wheelchair in and out of the car at every stop. Not that they stopped very often. The Atlantic wind made that inadvisable. 

 

The one satisfying part was meeting with an architect and discussing plans for the palace. 

All the time Merlin felt they were chasing the past instead of building the future. He just wanted to go home. 

 

And here he was, sitting in the rain on the pavement of the High Street of a plain English village, waiting for Arthur to open the front door of his house. The part of Merlin that would always doubt, wondered if this was a Freudian delay but before the idea could take root the door opened and Arthur turned to him with a look both apologetic and triumphant. 

 

“It was the wrong key” Arthur said “I forgot. I always used the back door” 

 

He pushed the chair into a long hallway, flagged with pale, honey coloured stone, which ran the length of the house. 

 

“The wheelchair fits well” Arthur remarked, Merlin didn’t care. He was determined to be out of the chair very quickly. 

 

Arthur opened a door on the right, revealing a good sized room with comfortable couches and arm chairs arranged around a fireplace. 

“Drawing room” Arthur said. Merlin nodded, impressed in spite of himself. He’d never lived in a house with a drawing room. Arthur then opened the door on the other side of the hallway showing a modest room with couches and easy chairs arranged around a fireplace.

 

“Sitting room” Arthur said. 

 

Merlin fought a desire to laugh and looked quizzically at Arthur. 

 

“So, do we each get a room and sit looking at each other across the hall?” he asked. 

 

Arthur gave him his patented ‘You’re-an-idiot Look’. Merlin welcomed it as another sign he was recovering. Arthur had been too nice to him lately. He responded with a ‘Really?-You’re-going-there? Look’ and Arthur grinned at him. As Arthur pushed the chair further into the house, Merlin had already decided that the sitting room would make a good study for Arthur and was planning on how to rearrange the furniture as they went. 

 

They moved on to where the hallway widened to include a staircase, which wound round two sides. Merlin sighed when he saw it. Tackling the stairs would be painful but he abandoned the wheelchair and took up his crutches ready to try. 

 

Instead of making for the stairs, Arthur went through an archway straight ahead. Merlin followed and found himself in a dining room where a simple but elegant table dominated. There were eight chairs and Merlin, running his fingers lightly over the smooth wood, imagined sitting there with their friends. A warm feeling began to grow in him. He looked up to see if Arthur felt the same but he had already opened up large double doors into the kitchen so Merlin followed again. 

The kitchen was square and to Merlin’s uncritical eye, looked bright and modern. But he was drawn to one item. 

“Bloody Hell Arthur! You have a range!” he exclaimed, seeing a dark green expanse by a chimney breast. He hobbled over to examine it closely. “My Mum would kill for one of these – though if you put one in her kitchen everything else would have to go. Still place is big enough for it” 

 

As with the table he ran his fingers over it as if ensuring it was real. The touch startled him. 

“Arthur! it still has plastic on it. Haven’t you used it?” 

Arthur shrugged. “I used the microwave” he said “I didn’t stay here that much” 

 

“Well that changes” Merlin said firmly “And one of us is learning to cook - Not it” he said with one breath. Arthur gave him a don’t-be-childish-look and somehow the look added to the bubble of warmth Merlin began to recognise as happiness. 

 

“I don’t cook Merlin” Arthur said in his ‘I’m important’ voice. That tone had been know to irritate Merlin but today it was endearing. He pulled Arthur’s hand into his own. 

 

“Learn” he said. “We have eaten a lifetime’s worth of takeaway already.” 

 

“I tried. I don’t cook” Arthur sounded defiant but made no attempt to release his hand. Merlin looked at him suspiciously. When had Arthur ‘tried’ to learn to cook? He examined Arthur’s expression closely. There was guilt there, and a little bit of pride and Merlin, doing some adding together, gasped.

 

“Did my mum teach you to cook” he said in wonder. His mum had attempted to teach him many times but though he had had some successes, they were mostly accidental and he had also managed destroy her best saucepan by forgetting the water when boiling an egg. His father had never let him live it down. 

 

Arthur blushed. He actually blushed and Merlin laughed to see it. 

 

“She did!” he said gleefully “She got you cooking. She knew I’d starve otherwise!” 

 

“I only made a few things” Arthur said defensively “and the scones were so solid you could build with them and the cottage pie had to have the black chipped off before we could eat it. Only the stew turned out really edible and ...” 

 

Merlin was laughing. His mum had taught Arthur how to make all of his comfort foods. She knew how to take care of him. He drew Arthur close and leaned on him rather than the crutches. 

 

“If you can make my mum’s stew you are definitely doing the cooking” he said lightly. “And you can start today” 

The panicked look on Arthur’s face provoked Merlin to kiss him and it was some time before they thought of food. 

 

It turned out that Arthur did not cook that day. They did not have the ingredients for Mrs. Balinson’s stew and, despite intense squabbling about which knobs to turn they could not get the range to come on. They had beans on toast, as Arthur knew where the toaster was and Merlin could cook beans in the microwave. Arthur warned him not to blow it up. He nearly did. 

 

Sitting at the kitchen table with Arthur opposite him Merlin sighed happily. “I know you described this place” he said, swallowing his toast “But you never said it felt like home”

 

“It didn’t” Arthur said looking puzzled. Merlin felt the bubble of happiness grow and grow and knew it was making him chatter. 

 

“We really need an arm chair in here. Or a couch. I know it’s not the done thing but I want to watch you cook. We could move the one from the smaller sitting room. That could be your study. You’ll need a desk though, not a modern one, an old fashioned desk with leather writing top and secret compartments and...” he trailed off aware that Arthur was unusually quiet. “Arthur?” he said “are you okay?” 

 

Arthur looked tense. “Am I ... Are we... Is this... Home?” he said in a small voice. 

 

For a moment Merlin let all his insecurities wash over him, wondering if Arthur wanted him here; wanted him. Then his glance fell on his own hand on the table. They had insisted on rings, a public sign of commitment and he drew confidence from the small circle of metal. 

 

“Yes” he said “You are, we are, it is” and was startled when Arthur gave a broken sob. 

 

“Arthur?” Merlin said uncertainly and in a moment Arthur was on his knees before him, arms wrapped around Merlin’s waist, head on his chest, sobbing. 

 

Merlin held him, his mind whirling. He was used to Arthur being calm, being strong. For months he had relied on that strength, had even resented it. With sudden insight he realised he had, in his own misery, forgotten the other Arthur, lost and vulnerable, the Arthur that only he got to see. As he felt Arthur’s convulsive sobs, he realised the toll the months had taken on his Arthur, having to wear his public face all the time, never getting to be weak. He tightened his hold and murmured endearments while Arthur’s voice broke in unintelligible sounds. 

 

Merlin did not know how long he held Arthur as he sobbed out his pain but he didn’t care. He would hold on as long as Arthur needed him and if that was forever he did not mind. Because now he knew that Arthur needed him. He would never understand what Arthur saw in him but holding Arthur in his arms, he knew that he was needed and he knew as long as he was needed he would be there for Arthur. He whispered his assurances as Arthur choked out his own fears and hopes. 

 

Finally Arthur’s sobs turned to shuddering gasps then to heavy breaths. He pulled out slightly. 

 

“Sorry” Arthur said. Merlin would not acknowledge it. There was no need for sorry. He took a paper towel and gently wiped Arthur’s blotched face. 

“I don’t know how we did it my love,” he said “ But you have beans in your hair” 

 

Arthur gave a hiccupping laugh. “I had better shower then” he said, then looking worried he added “ Are you ready to take the stairs” 

 

Merlin was, though he dreaded it. But, for the first time since leaving hospital Merlin did not resent the offered help. He leaned into Arthur’s supporting arm without the pang of humiliation at needing to be helped and without the emotional pain the physical ache was easier to take. Nevertheless, he needed a moment when they reached the landing. 

 

“This is the bathroom” Arthur said unnecessarily, opening a door and showing a well appointed room. Merlin noted the full sized bath and separate shower but also noted that it did not match the Palace in luxury. Arthur must have seen that in his face, saying pointedly;

“This one has hot water.” 

 

Merlin laughed. He had a feeling that laughter was going to feature more in his life now. 

 

“Go on then” he said pushing Arthur into the room “Have your shower and leave me to explore” 

 

He knew that Arthur was feeling raw and needed some time alone to restore his essential Arthur-ness and was rewarded by a quick peck on the cheek and a closed door. 

 

“Leave me some of that hot water!” Merlin called to the closing door before he explored. 

 

The landing headed in two directions. To the front were two rooms both looking over the High street. One was a good sized room, well furnished. The other was slightly smaller, having some of its space taken up with an en suite. Neither room looked as if they had ever been occupied. Merlin made his way to the back of the house, past the bathroom where he could hear the sound of the shower. 

 

There was only one bed room to the back of the house and it was large. As Merlin stood in the doorway he realised that this was where Arthur had lived when he was in the house. A king size bed sat by the wall, facing the large bay window at the far end of the long room and there was other bedroom furniture. But by one wall a table held a mini fridge, a microwave and a kettle, with one mug sitting forlornly beside them. In the embrasure two armchairs sat side by side, looking into the garden beyond. With a new certainty Merlin understood that the second chair was, and always had been meant for him. He limped over and with a glad sigh sack into the cushiony depths of one of them. 

 

He recognised the room from long Skype conversations with Arthur but now he saw the lonely life Arthur had lived in these walls. That was not going to happen again. 

 

He was feeling quite sentimental when Arthur came in, tousled and sadly wearing a robe. 

 

“Shower’s free” he said, stating the obvious, “Do you need help?” 

 

Merlin was tempted to say yes, but frankly he was not up to any energetic ‘help’ in the shower, resolving that any helping tonight would definitely be horizontal. He showered quickly, noting that the water was hot. That made him think about aired rooms, hot water and carefully folded towels in a house that had not been occupied for nearly a year. He decided that he and Arthur would have to have a serious chat about the financial implications of having staff. But not tonight. Tonight was his. He planned to make this their true honeymoon.

Except it didn’t work out that way. 

 

When he got back to the bedroom he found Arthur, spread eagled under a duvet; fast asleep and lightly snoring. Merlin stood for a moment watching his lover; his partner, sleep. Each rise and fall of his chest seemed to root Merlin ever closer to him. Cautiously he made his way over to the bed and laid his crutches on the floor. Carefully he settled himself into the bed, wincing at the ache in his leg. He inched over so that he could touch Arthur’s outstretched hand and sighed contentedly. 

 

Here, in this village in the heart of England, far from his birthplace, he was home. He felt the hard outline of Arthur’s ring, identical to his own. This hand, this man, this was home. Merlin fell asleep.


	2. Moving Out

Merlin woke to tea and embarrassment. Both were delivered by Arthur. Merlin knew they should talk about the emotions released the previous day but he was not sure if either of them had the words to do so. They settled for croissants instead. They were delicious. 

 

That day and the days after were filled with furniture movement. A psychologist would say that Merlin was marking his new territory. Merlin said that the furniture was placed by interior designers who had never had to face the frustration of having nowhere to put your coffee mug. Arthur did the actual moving, though he drew the line at dragging a large couch from what was now his study into the dining room. 

“That waits until you can help” he said emphatically. “I’ll just get it stuck in the hallway and we’ll both be stranded at different ends of the house” 

Merlin grumped but underneath he was happy. This was real life. He could tell Arthur felt the same. Sometimes he could see Arthur looking at him with a half smile and a vaguely bemused expression. Merlin was sure he sported an equally bemused look. How could they be here, together, moving furniture and having croissants? After the years of separation and tension, being together was... surprising. 

 

One evening Arthur came into their bedroom (and Merlin still thrilled at the idea that it was theirs) and stood in the doorway. Merlin was sitting in an armchair in the bay window munching an apple. He had rediscovered an appetite and always seemed to be eating, to Arthur’s amusement. He looked up when Arthur entered and saw that he was being stared at. 

 

“Is there dust on my face?” he asked lightly. They – or rather Arthur – had moved a bookcase and Merlin had unwillingly investigated the spider’s webs behind it. 

 

“Probably” Arthur said, still staring. 

“I’m sure you know by now, you’ve looked hard enough” Merlin said with a laugh. 

 

“You’re here”. Arthur sounded strained – his voice not showing the light-hearted banter that was their usual mode of conversation.

 

“Yes.” Merlin said, puzzled “What?” 

 

“So many times I came into this room and imagined what it would be like to have you here and now you are” Arthur went silent. 

 

“I’m hoping that’s a good thing” said Merlin, carefully putting down the apple core and very consciously not looking at Arthur, who remained in the doorway. 

 

“It is” Arthur smiled. “Only most of the times I imagined you here, you didn’t stay in the armchair” He raised his eyebrows in a way Merlin knew Arthur believed was seductive but actually made him look slightly crossed-eyed. Merlin adored that look. He hadn’t seen half enough of it lately so he responded gladly. 

 

“That can be arranged” he said lifting slightly from the chair and then slumping back down. Apart from stairs (and he was working on them) getting out of armchairs was the most difficult part of his recovery. 

 

“Little help here?” he said holding up his arms. Since they had come to the house – since Arthur’s tears – Merlin found it easy to ask for help, the embarrassment and feelings of humiliation long gone. Arthur strode over to him and Merlin gloried in the sight. This man was his. Arthur pulled him standing – none too gently – and then swung his legs from under him.

 

“No! No carrying! We don’t do carrying!” Merlin squeaked “Okay, we seem to be doing the carrying but..” 

 

Merlin was totally not a damsel, he was a man, godammit with the parts to prove it and those parts were doing a good job of proving it right now. Arthur put him down, slightly more gently on the bed. After only a few nights they had gravitated to having their own ‘side’ but, in truth they spent quite a lot of time in the middle. Merlin wriggled to the middle now. 

“Is this what you imagined?” he asked. 

“Not exactly” Arthur was grinning as he spoke. “In those particular imaginings” he said with precise enunciation “You had far fewer clothes”. 

 

Merlin grinned back. “That can also be arranged” he said and pulled at his teeshirt. During the dark days immediately after the crash Merlin had feared his left arm would remain paralysed. Time, surgery and therapy had helped and to his relief he now had some control and quite a lot of strength in the upper arm. But the fine motor functions of the fingers were still gone and he fumbled at many things. In short, buttons were a bitch and his wardrobe consisted of things that could be pulled on and off easily. He was discovering that this could be an advantage. 

 

Arthur had no problem with buttons and he was ready before Merlin, very obviously so. Merlin shivered – and not just with anticipation. 

“We have to do something about the heating” he said with vague exasperation. “This being naked requires much more heat”. Arthur grinned at him and Merlin gave a mock snarl.   
“If you say that you will heat... Mmmppphhhh” Merlin found himself unable to speak due to the weight of Arthur’s lips on his own. He didn’t mind. 

 

Sometime later Merlin lay, still in the middle of the bed, with Arthur curled around him. He had never felt so content. He had been broken and lost but now he knew that happiness and contentment were not the same. All the other times he had been with Arthur, the manufactured weekends and brief meetings, even the time at Doonshee, he had felt happy. But now, bound by oaths, in a house not a hotel, even broken, he was content. He sighed deeply. 

 

“What’s that for?” Arthur said into his ear. 

“This is good” Merlin said “This is very good” 

 

“Mmmm” Arthur murmured sleepily. Merlin smiled.

 

It was a while later that Merlin woke from a slumber to hear ringing. It took a second to identify the door bell – no one had used it before. He prodded Arthur with his elbow. 

 

“Door. Answer it” 

 

Arthur made a grump sound. “It’s the middle of the night” he grumbled. 

Merlin sighed. “It’s three in the afternoon, love” he said “We didn’t take to the bed to sleep” 

 

“Why do I have to go” Arthur complained as he swung his legs out of the bed. 

 

“Because you love me and I can’t handle the stairs” Merlin said matter-of-factly. Arthur sighed dramatically and headed for the door. Merlin turned around and called out. 

 

“I know you want to make an impression love, but clothes are important” Arthur looked down, complained loudly and pulling on sweat pants and teeshirt, ran for the stairs. The unknown person was still pressing the doorbell. Merlin wondered how Arthur managed to look more debauched with clothes than without. It was a gift he thought. For him. He smiled to himself and waited for Arthur to return. 

 

When Arthur had not come back within a few minutes Merlin reluctantly got up and headed for the shower. He was dried and dressed when Arthur finally reached the bedroom and was gratified that Arthur looked disappointed when he saw him. 

 

“You’re dressed” Arthur said, stating the obvious. 

 

“You were ages” Merlin replied “who was it?” 

 

“Some people from the Parish Council. They have a campaign for public seating on the High Street. They wanted my advice” To Merlin’s ears Arthur sounded happily surprised and he was thankful to the anonymous Parish people for giving Arthur that gift, even if they did interrupt snuggles. 

 

“Did you give them advice?” Merlin asked, hiding a grin. 

 

“I said that I was not inherently opposed to seats but since there was opposition it would be only fair to hear them out. I’m going to a public meeting tomorrow night” 

 

Merlin didn’t bother to hide his grin. Arthur used his politician voice as he spoke and though once Merlin had hated it, now he was glad to hear it again. It was part of Arthur and he loved it. 

 

He also noticed something else. 

 

“You won’t be wearing that, will you” he said pointing at Arthur. Arthur huffed in annoyance. 

 

“Of course not MERlin” Arthur said in his pompous tone “I don’t wear sweat pants to meetings” 

 

Merlin had his back to Arthur. “It’s just that you took my clothes when you ran and they are... a bit tight” He turned around laughing. Arthur looked down and groaned. 

“They leave nothing to the imagination” murmured Merlin. 

 

“Oh God” said Arthur “I’ve practically exposed myself to the leader of the Parish Council” 

 

Merlin chuckled. 

 

 

Having exhausted potential possibilities for furniture moving inside, (due to Arthur’s refusal to move even a coffee table until Merlin could carry his end), Merlin began to explore outside. 

 

Double doors in the dining room led out onto a paved area with table and chairs. By now Merlin knew it faced south west and he looked forward to sitting out there in summer. His father had never been one for barbeques but he imagined Arthur would love it. He envisaged Arthur in a ‘kiss the cook’ apron presiding over a grill and had another moment of ‘home’. 

 

The garden proper was reached up a series of steps which Merlin negotiated with some difficulty. He was getting better on the crutches and the physiotherapist he had seen in the nearby town had told him to exercise more often. He acknowledged the necessity. The long months of hospital had left his muscles weakened and only exercise would tone them again. He sucked up the ache in his arms and tackled the steps. 

 

The garden was simple, fruit trees, a few shrubs and lots of grass. Merlin loved it. 

“We’ll need a lawnmower” he said to Arthur who had joined him, picking his way across the damp grass in his leather loafers. Merlin mused that Arthur still hadn’t got the idea of sensible shoes. 

 

“No need” said Arthur “I have a man coming in to see to it” 

 

Merlin felt a stab of irritation.

A gardener. 

And before that; someone to see to the house. 

 

When would Arthur stop acting like a prince in a fairy tale and live in the real world? He would have to have say something. 

 

“We have to talk” he said as he swung around on his crutches and headed back to the house, stumbling on the steps on the way. 

 

“That sounds ominous ” Arthur said lightly as he followed. 

 

Inside, Merlin sat down on one of the elegant but understated chairs in the dining room. Their expensive simplicity added to his annoyance as Arthur caught up with him. 

“So, what’s up? ” he said, plopping down on a seat beside Merlin. 

 

“Staff, Arthur. We can’t afford staff” 

 

“We don’t have staff” 

 

“You said you had a man doing the garden” Merlin insisted. 

 

“A gardener once a week does not constitute ‘staff’” said Arthur, with a slight tone to his voice which grated on Merlin. His annoyance grew. 

 

“And the house? Do we have elves? Someone got it ready before we arrived” Merlin said quickly. 

 

Arthur smiled. “That’s a standing thing. I always have Mrs. Partridge check the house before I come to stay” The smile fed Merlin’s irritation. It was Arthur’s patrician smile which looked to Merlin like a What-Would-You-Know-About-Such-Things smile. He responded to the smile. 

 

“We can’t afford it” he said sharply. “You have to remember that we are effectively unemployed?”

 

Arthur responded quickly. 

 

“You’re not” he said quickly. “You’re on medical leave” At any other time this positive attitude would have made Merlin happy but now it seemed just another sign of Arthur’s refusal to face reality. 

 

“We both know I will never be able to do my job again” he snapped. The thought gave him renewed pain though he had come to that grudging assessment of his future when he had still been in the hospital. He knew his career was over and he would have to start again. 

 

Again. 

 

His injuries, and Arthur, had diverted him from this reality but now it bore upon him, fuelling his anger. 

 

“Unemployed. Arthur” he spat out. “We can’t afford to have a man come to do the garden. We couldn’t afford the garden, this house if you hadn’t bought it outright before... I don’t know how I will be able to pay the mortgage on the Palace once...” he stopped, choked by fear he hadn’t realised he had. 

 

“I have money” Arthur said calmly. 

 

“For now” Merlin responded. “But next month? Or next year? We have to be careful with what we have.” 

 

“I know how to manage money, Merlin” Arthur said with a note of exasperation. Merlin ignored it. 

 

“You know how to manage loads of money” he said fiercely. “We don’t have loads. You’ve never had to decide between a packet of tea bags or a tin of beans – you’ve never...” 

 

Arthur interrupted, saying heatedly “And you have? Come on Merlin, you’ve always had your parents to turn to if you ran out” 

 

Merlin was really angry now “And I hate having to ask them for help! I hate taking from them and I’m afraid I will have to ask again...” 

 

“You won’t” Arthur said firmly, putting his hand over Merlin’s “We have money”

 

Merlin withdrew his hand. “You keep saying that! We don’t!” 

 

“We do” And Arthur told him about the Trust. 

 

As Arthur spoke Merlin felt a cold knot settle in his stomach and spread through his body as though he were dying – and he knew how that felt. Arthur spoke of sums that were only fantasy in Merlin’s world. Arthur’s yearly income from his investments – an income Arthur called modest – was more than Merlin earned putting his life on the line every day. Bitterness rose like bile in his mouth. 

 

“Were you planning to tell me?” Merlin said, feeling as though his tongue was too big for his mouth. 

 

“I am telling you. I didn’t know until now this was an issue. It never came up before.” 

 

“We’ve been living in each other’s pockets for months and you didn’t think to say anything?” 

 

“Most of the time you were incapable of understanding” 

 

“You think I’m incapable?” Merlin said slowly, white fury building in him. 

 

“I didn’t say that” Arthur snapped, “you’re deliberately misunderstanding”

 

“Incapable, remember?” 

 

“Merlin!” 

Merlin had heard Arthur use that tone before but he had never heard his own name said in that way. He involuntarily flinched. 

 

“What?” he managed to say. All the anxiety he didn’t know he had worked through him, the worry of not being able to afford his responsibilities, the fear of being helpless; all of it broke like a tide in his mind. Arthur could have eased that, could have ended it had he spoken. Did he not want to? Was that what made Arthur hesitate telling him? The thought seeped like poison into his mouth.

 

“You’re a fucking millionaire, Arthur, what part of that did you think I couldn’t understand? Or did you just not want me to know? Are you sorry you didn’t do a pre-nup? Are they even possible? Maybe...” he stopped, horrified by his own words, his own tone but too angry to take it back.

 

Even as he spoke he could see Arthur’s expression changing from animated to his bland political face that Merlin hated. Arthur gave a polite smile. 

 

“I can see you are upset” Arthur said formally “Perhaps we should discuss this another time. Now if you would excuse me, I have business elsewhere” 

 

He turned and walked through the double doors. 

 

Merlin watched as Arthur strode across the paved patio towards the driveway where the car was parked. 

 

Part of him wanted to go after him, call him back but most of him was angry, and angrier still that Arthur was leaving . He heard the car start up, heard it pull out and sat in the silence for some time. 

 

When he moved again he realised with a shock that he had no options. He could not leave – run out as Arthur had done. Trapped by his injuries he was entirely dependent on Arthur’s return and the thought roiled in his stomach. The house, which had wrapped itself around him like Arthur’s arms now seemed cold and distant. He moved the rooms slowly, looking at the discarded newspaper by an armchair, coffee mug incongruously on a mantelpiece and felt that he too had been discarded, left behind. 

 

He had not eaten so he went back to the kitchen and made a sandwich. He sat and looked at it for some time before wrapping it and putting it in the fridge. He laughed wryly at his own frugality. Arthur would probably have binned it. 

 

He went upstairs, a feat he had only achieved a day or so before. In their bedroom (Arthur’s room – it was Arthur’s) he stood looking at all the signs of lives lived there. With a sudden impulse he pulled his robe from the back of the door and dragged it to the guest bedroom at the front of the house. Piece by piece, he methodically brought all his things down the landing, arranging them in the new room. It took time, as he could only carry a little on each journey. As he put his tooth brush in the guest ensuite (His? Was it?) he felt pain that did not come from his injuries. 

 

Merlin returned to the back room and sat on the bed. The light from the window glinted on the ring he wore – still new enough to be unfamiliar. He had chosen the rings, brought Arthur to see the simple silver bands and used his enthusiasm to sway the decision. Now he wondered if Arthur had wanted something in gold, something more elaborate. He didn’t want to believe that. He remembered Arthur’s smile when he had seen the rings and did not want to doubt it now. 

 

He looked about the room. He was not untidy but without his things the room looked bare. He ran his hand over the bed and remembered how much he had longed to wake up with Arthur, how long they had waited to have the moments of domestic closeness, how many phone calls had ended with the feeling of hollow loneliness that now permeated his soul. The ring gleaming on his finger stood for an end to that loneliness. With abrupt determination he decided to believe in the promise of the ring. He stood up and tiredly began to move his things back. He would not be the one to leave this bed. 

 

It took longer to bring things back than it did to move them and Merlin ached when he put the Star Wars alarm clock his mother got him for his fifteenth birthday back on his bedside locker. Sore and exhausted he took a painkiller and went to bed, falling into a deep sleep. 

 

When he awoke it was darker but not late. His clock told him that it was 8pm. The house was still and Merlin remembered the Parish meeting. Arthur would be there, he had given his word. Arthur always kept his word. That thought, the knowledge that he held Arthur’s promise, helped to keep the fear at bay but as the evening progressed he worried more. Would Arthur return? 

 

Merlin replayed the row in his head, the first few times feeling some of the anger he had felt as it had happened but gradually that dissipated and he began to hear what each of them said. 

 

He remembered how quick Arthur had been to say that Merlin was on sick leave. Now Merlin heard the omission. He had not mentioned himself. Merlin felt a pang of guilt. Arthur hated feeling useless, hated not having a purpose. Merlin knew the knot in his own heart at the thought of not be able to return to work was magnified for Arthur and he regretted reminding him. He regretted the whole row (though he still wished Arthur had told him about his money). He didn’t know how to fix it - and as long as the bed beside him remained cold and empty he could not try. 

 

Merlin lay, tossing uncomfortably, watching time illuminated on the figures of the clock. He trusted that Arthur would return but as the figures moved closer to midnight the trust was diluted with fear. Had he gone too far? Was what he said unforgiveable? He was still fretting when he heard the sounds of a key in the front door, the bolt being replaced and heavy footsteps on the stairs. The door opened, allowing light from the landing to spill into the room. Merlin lay with his face away from the door and he wondered if he should pretend to be asleep, put off the inevitable until morning. He rejected that. With a sigh he turned and saw Arthur silhouetted in the streaming light. Silence seemed to fill every corner of the room with a dead weight that was stifling. 

 

Arthur gave a hoarse cough. “I think we should get a lawnmower” he said. Merlin let out a breath he did not know he was holding. 

 

“Yes” he said slowly. His brain did to be working. He went with his gut. “Come to bed, it’s late” 

 

He watched Arthur get ready for bed in the half light, the movements now familiar but still wonderful. He pulled up the corner of the duvet as Arthur came near and Arthur slipped in, lying strictly on ‘His’ side of the bed as though unsure of his welcome. Merlin inched closer and took his hand in his. Arthur rolled over and closed the gap. 

 

“Tell me about the meeting” Merlin said very quietly. He felt some of the tension leave Arthur’s body as he nestled nearer. 

 

“Really?” Arthur had often used that word – usually with incredulity at some daft thing Merlin had said. This time he sounded – hesitant, but sincere. Merlin noticed. 

 

“Really” Merlin said emphatically. “What happened about the street seats?”. He wriggled closer, until he was tucked around Arthur. “Tell me” he demanded. 

 

Arthur let out a deep breath and relaxed into Merlin’s touch. He began to speak, slowly at first, then pouring out the events of the simple parish meeting. It seemed that the opposition to the public seating had centred around the possibility of teenagers using them for anti-social behaviour. Arthur had queried how many teenagers there were in Abbotsmead and how much anti social behaviour there was in the village. He had also suggested the setting up of a youth cafe to provide a focus for said teenagers. 

 

Merlin felt proud. A year ago Arthur was averting a national crisis and now he was working out the implications of putting seats on a high street. As Arthur’s voice slurred and faded with sleep, Merlin snuggled as close as he could. 

 

“I really do love you” he said softly. Arthur did not reply but the arms enfolding him tightened their hold. It was plenty.


	3. Home?

The next morning it seemed that by mutual consent they were going to ignore the uncomfortable ‘morning after the row before’. It helped somewhat that before the ‘getting up’ part of morning they had engaged in another ‘getting up’ part of morning – to mutual satisfaction. Merlin wondered at the wisdom of ignoring an elephant in the room that was not only there, but had tried to gore them both, but in post-coital bliss he decided it was not worth pursuing. Besides, he had no idea what to say. 

 

One after effect of the whole debacle was that Arthur remembered that he was still a student; still had work to do and had, in fact an assignment due in a week. He retired to his newly named study and was kept going with constant infusions of coffee (with occasional biscuits) brought by Merlin. Eventually, after a few days, Arthur emerged wild-eyed and admitted that maybe he should reduce the caffeine so Merlin began bringing in tea. The substitution was not a problem until Merlin realised they were nearing the last tea bag. Plus: - the biscuit situation was critical. They had gotten into the habit of shopping in the nearest town when Merlin had a physiotherapist appointment but he was not due physio for a week and he was not medically certified to drive. 

 

Given that when Arthur had last appeared he was running his fingers distractedly through his hair, declaring that writers of legal texts were fiends and monsters while searching frantically for a slip of paper he had used as a bookmark; Merlin decided not to bother him. There was a village shop further along the High Street and the physiotherapist had recommended that Merlin should walk. He strapped on a back pack to carry his groceries and, calling to Arthur that he was going out, headed for the door. 

 

Outside he took a deep breath and swung his crutches around to head down the High Street. It was a sunny day but there was a brisk breeze blowing, ensuring that he needed a tight hold ot stay balanced. He had seen the village from the car of course; he and Arthur had driven around quite a bit, but this was the first time he had walked and he was interested to see how an English village differed from an Irish one. Both Abbottsmead and Doonshee had formed around a main street and though the main road had bypassed around Abbotsmead High Street a fair number of cars passed Merlin as he hobbled his way towards the shop. It was not a chocolate box village, though he had seen a few of those on the way to Abbotsmead. Most of the houses were built with 18th century symmetry and simplicity like their own. 

Their own. 

 

Their own house. 

 

Despite the row, Merlin still felt a thrill when he thought of the house. They had not spoken about THAT row. Merlin knew that Arthur’s dedication to his studies was, in part, fuelled by a desire avoid talking. Merlin did not call him on it because he did not want to talk about it either. Not yet anyway. His bruised heart had recovered the day after the THAT row, when he had found his phone – forgotten in the stress of the moment. 

On it there was a text from Arthur, sent about two hours after he had so carefully Not Stalked Out. 

The text was blunt and to the point and not really the stuff of sentiment but when he felt lonely or uncertain, Merlin would look at it. 

It said simply: Parish Meeting 2night. Late leave bolt off fr dr.

For Merlin it said that Arthur had always intended to come back. That, despite the hurt that led him to leave, Arthur always planned to come home. The thought rooted the idea of Home in Merlin’s mind and made him capable of putting up with Arthur rambling about the faults of Law texts. 

 

Merlin stood outside the small local store, panting slightly. It had been a little harder than he had thought and he still had the journey back to face. He looked longingly at the tea shop a little further along the High Street. It looked like somewhere Miss Marple would visit but to Merlin’s tired bones it offered a rest. He resolved that if he was still as sore when he had picked up his few groceries he would succumb to temptation and pay Miss Marple’s haunt a visit. With that in mind he pushed open the door of the village shop. 

 

The door pushed a bell and Merlin was conscious of every eye in the shop turning to him. The shop was surprisingly modern inside, with shelves all around the walls and along the middle of the room, forming two aisles. The shelves were packed with everything from cat food to toilet rolls. Merlin picked up a basket and, juggling his crutches he began to browse. He quickly found tea bags and biscuits and noted for future reference that the shop stocked Arthur’s favourite breakfast cereals. 

 

As he browsed he heard the woman at the cash desk start up a conversation with a customer with a basket of kitty litter and chocolate. 

 

“That’s him” the woman said in the loud whisper used by obliviously partially deaf people when they try to be quiet. “That’s the catamite that brung down Arthur Pendragon.” 

 

Merlin felt his soul freeze. The customer gave an inarticulate response and the woman continued. 

 

“I was ever so surprised when it came out that Pendragon was one of Them, what with him being so handsome and an MP and all. But you never can tell what lies beneath. And now we have That One doing disgusting things in the middle of the High Street. Not even English I heard” 

 

The customer murmured something unintelligible and the woman responded. 

 

“No he can’t hear me. That’ll be five forty-nine dear” The customer paid and left, the bell on the door clanging her departure. 

 

Merlin slumped by the Marmite and pickled onions. He could feel the eyes on him; a couple of teenagers buying bottles of Coke, a young woman with a toddler, an older man wearing a neat suit. It seemed to Merlin that all of his senses were heightened. He could hear the hum of the fluorescent lights, see the scuff marks on the floor from rubber soles. He wanted to leave, to slip away unseen but that was not possible. He limped to the cash desk, his crutches adding to the marks on the floor. He put down the basket. 

 

“Arthur Pendragon is a better man and better MP than you ever deserved.” he said quietly. Arthur had once remarked that Merlin’s accent became stronger when he was emotional and he could hear it now. It made him feel more alien, more out of place. He continued. “I don’t do disgusting things except in your mind and that says more about you than about me.” He looked at the things in the basket. “ I came in for tea and biscuits but I see that’s not what you’re selling” 

 

He moved to the door but any hopes of making a dramatic exit were foiled by his crutches and the weight of the door. When he finally manoeuvred his way out he heard a plaintive voice spit out “Well really!” as the bell clanged. 

 

Merlin stood on the High Street, his breath heaving. 

He had forgotten. 

His long stay in the cocoon of the hospital, visited only by family and friends, tended by medical staff who had grown to know him, like him, had made him forget what it was like in the real world. He shuddered. He wanted to go home and he was no longer sure where that was. He looked along the High Street towards their house. It seemed so far away now. 

 

Hitching on his crutches he set off, all thought of the tea shop abandoned .He could not risk further rejection. The wind, which had seemed brisk when he set out, now was cold and he shivered, feeling the muscles in his shoulders tense. 

 

The High Street was on a hill, though he had not noticed the slope on the way down. Now he felt every inch of the gradient in his aching leg, his strained arms. 

Step – swing – drag. 

He pulled himself onwards.

 

‘That’s the catamite that brung down Arthur Pendragon’ 

 

He had, hadn’t he? Brought Arthur down? He knew it. 

 

Step – swing – drag.

 

‘That One doing disgusting things in the middle of the High Street’

 

That was him. He was disgusting. 

Step – swing – drag

‘THEM’ 

One of them. 

 

The pain his shoulders had moved from an ache to a blazing flame with a consciousness of its own. 

Step – swing – drag

 

He reached the front door but could not fumble for keys. He leaned on the doorbell. After a long moment when he leaned on the door post, Arthur opened the door. He looked irritated but on seeing Merlin his expression changed to one of concern. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Arthur said anxiously. Merlin tired not to fall into his arms like a Hollywood damsel. 

 

“It’s okay” Merlin said “I just overdid it. The walk was too much” 

 

Arthur harrumphed. “I knew I should have stopped you” he said sharply. Merlin ignored him. His back was now in spasm and he did not think he could hold himself upright much longer. 

 

“Could you get the chair?” Merlin managed to gasp. He was conscious that the anxiety in Arthur’s face turned to fear. Merlin had not used the wheelchair since the day they had arrived in Abbotsmead. He tried to ease the fear. 

 

“Too much walking” Merlin said. “I shouldn’t have gone” he said as he sat in the chair. He hated that it felt like defeat. 

 

Arthur, pushed the chair towards the kitchen. “I’ll make you tea” he said. Merlin sighed. 

 

“I didn’t get any” he began. He was too tired and too sore to have an emotional conversation so he simply added “I turned back” . It wasn’t a lie but it was all he could cope with. 

 

Arthur bustled around the kitchen, opening the (mostly empty) cupboards in search of an appropriate beverage. He turned triumphantly with a jar of hot chocolate but by then the pain in Merlin’s back was overwhelming every other sense. He rested his head on the kitchen table. 

 

“I need my pills, Arthur” Merlin said softly. He had given the strongest of his pain killers into Arthur’ hands, with the idea that if he had to ask for them he would never take them on impulse but only when he really needed them. Although he had been tempted once or twice he had not really needed them since they had come to the house. Now he did. He tried to avoid the worried look in Arthur’s eyes as he handed over the pills. 

 

With the strong pain relief, Merlin slept. He was dimly aware of Arthur joining him at some stage, of strong arms holding him but he did not wake until morning. 

 

Arthur decided to take the day off from studying to do shopping and Merlin readily agreed. His back was still acting up so he knew he wouldn’t be able to manage the crutches so he resigned himself to the wheelchair. That meant that Arthur had to bring the car around to the front and Merlin waited by the front door for him to arrive. When he opened the door he noticed a bag on the doorstep. Warily, he looked at it. It was a normal Sainsburys bag with a envelope taped to it. Merlin lifted the envelope gingerly. He had had too many ‘pranks’ played on him not to be suspicious of anonymous gifts and now he knew Abbotsmead was as likely as Belfast to hold such ‘pranksters’. 

 

The envelope had M. Balinson printed on it. Inside was a generic card from M&S – the sort his mum used to send non-birthday messages. Written in it was one sentence:

‘YOU ARE WELCOME IN ABBOTSMEAD’. The word ‘both’ was written in pencil beside the ‘Welcome’ 

Merlin had expected a ‘get out of town’ note so this was a surprise. And in his experience – admittedly limited – anonymous note writers did not often use constructions like ‘be assured’. Arthur would be impressed. For a moment Merlin wondered if Arthur had put it there to make Merlin feel more at home. He dismissed the thought. Until yesterday he HAD felt at home. There would be no reason for Arthur to stage a ‘you’re welcome’ ruse. 

 

He took a chance and checked the contents of the bag and knew for sure it wasn’t Arthur. Inside was a packet of handmade gourmet biscuits from a tourist shop some distance away. With it was a packet of loose leaf tea from a grand London store. 

 

Merlin did not know he was smiling until Arthur pulled up and asked him why. 

 

“House warming present!” he said showing Arthur the contents of the bag. Arthur beamed in response and Merlin’s heart warmed at the look. There was no need to tell Arthur about the shop. The gift more than balanced it. He allowed Arthur to help him into the car with a lighter heart than he would have thought possible. It would be okay. 

 

He still had nightmares though, that night and once or twice after. He knew where hateful language led and it seemed that his sub-conscious was still undecided on it being okay. Waking to Arthur’s arms and murmured complaints and admonitions to ‘go back to sleep Merlin’ helped lull his sub-conscious into agreement. He never had two nightmares in the one night. 

 

Later that week Merlin got another package and this time Arthur was definitely the sender. In a way. 

 

Arthur had retreated back to study mode, appearing only for food and occasional melt-downs. Merlin should have lonely or neglected but he didn’t. He caught up with reading, watched whole series he had missed while in the hospital and relished the fact that in the house was one who loved him who would drop everything and come to him he asked. He didn’t ask but that was beside the point; the intention was there. 

 

When Merlin had signed for the registered envelope, read and deciphered the contents and taken a minute or ten to think he did ask for Arthur’s attention. 

 

“What have you done” Merlin said, waving papers at Arthur as he entered the room. Arthur looked puzzled until he took the papers and had a quick glance. 

 

“Good, they’ve arrived” he said firmly. Merlin looked at him through narrowed eyes. 

“I don’t speak legalese but these seem to say that I am a beneficiary of a Trust.” Merlin said. 

 

“If you read it carefully you will see that you are both beneficiary and Trustee” Arthur said calmly. “That means you get to make decisions” 

Merlin flopped down onto the voluptuously upholstered couch. He put his head in his hands. It wasn’t that he felt dizzy. It was just that the world seemed to have shifted a bit. 

 

“Why?” he said quietly.

 

“Because you were right” Arthur said “I should have told you. I just didn’t see it as important. I knew you were worried but it never entered my head that money was one of the things that worried you. You were right about me being too used to having money. And I want you not to worry” His voice got quieter as he spoke. Merlin sighed. 

 

“Can’t it be undone?” Merlin asked impetuously. Arthur shook his head. “But what if we don’t... if this ... if we...spilt” Merlin went on, regretting it as the words spilled out and a look of hurt passed over Arthur’s face. Arthur went over to the fireplace and spoke intently to the mantelpiece. 

 

“I cannot imagine a time when I would not be concerned for your well being” he said slowly and formally. “Even if we, as you say if we... Even then I would want you secure. Especially then” He stopped and Merlin saw the slump of Arthur’s shoulders. He wanted to fix this. He even knew how. He would jump up and pull Arthur into his arms, reassure him with words and kisses and make it very clear that he was not going anywhere. 

 

That is what he planned to do. 

 

Except he couldn’t get out of the grip of the couch cushions which seem to have turned to marshmallow with a sentient urge to keep him in place. There was an awkward moment of silence that was meant to be a precious moment of togetherness. Merlin groaned in frustration at his hopeless efforts to stand, finally sacrificing his dignity and the role of comforter. 

“Arthur!” he yelped “Come here” 

 

Arthur moved over to him and instead of the grown up and romantic pull into his arms, Merlin pulled him down to the marshmallow cushions. Grasping Arthur’s face with his hands Merlin looked him straight in the eye – in as much as the angle would allow. 

 

“I promise” Merlin said firmly “I will not be the one to leave. No matter what. I promise” Then he leaned into a kiss that Arthur gladly returned. When he could speak again (some minutes later) Merlin whispered that he doubted if he could get off the couch anyway. 

 

“S’okay” Arthur murmured, temporarily removing his lips from their former occupation. “I can live with that” and he resumed his exploration. 

 

It was some time later, still enmeshed in both the couch and Arthur’s limbs, that Merlin looked at the glow of the street light through the window. He giggled silently at the thought that Mrs. Whateverhernameis at the shop would have a lot more to complain about if she stood outside. He resolved to get new blinds. Or maybe even curtains.


	4. Moving on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly fluff, as, when I came to edit I realised that the original chapter was very long. I cut it roughly in two and this bit is the fluff. But even our fluffiest days can affect the future. 
> 
> Also - some parts may not be completely clear yet - this is only from one point of view.
> 
> Belated thank you to all those who have stayed on board for this life journey!

In the weeks they had spent in Abbotsmead, they had had few visitors. Calum was caught up in his move to London and Elena blankly refused to come over. 

“No way am I staying with you guys while you are still in honeymoon mode” she declared. 

“We’re not... what you said” Merlin replied with some embarrassment. 

“Well in that case you are in the finding-out-what –annoys-you-stage” Elena said. “And that’s worse. I’m not staying with you two until you can safely ignore each other and pay attention to me. I’m demanding that way” 

 

Merlin didn’t mind though. Somehow it felt right to take time for them to be together, to grow into the house and each other, to find the spaces the other filled. It also gave him time to recover so that, with much effort, he could walk with one crutch and rarely needed the chair. 

 

He was surprised one day when he came in from the garden, where he had been enjoying seldom seen sun, to find Arthur had visitors in the front sitting room. (Merlin refused to call it a drawing room). He did not want to intrude so he scuttled back to the garden and waited. It was not long until Arthur came out to him. 

“They want me to join the Parish Council” Arthur said hesitatingly. 

“You’re practically on it already” Merlin laughed. “Why the long face” Arthur did look unhappy. 

“It’s hardly Westminster” Arthur commented vaguely. 

 

Merlin, breathing in the scented summer air, sighed. “They don’t have honeysuckle in Westminster” he said. Arthur nodded. He didn’t say much about the council after that but he did agree to run. 

 

They did branch out a little, mostly to the local town where Merlin had checkups at the hospital and where the physiotherapist and all important supermarket were located. Once or twice they drove to local tourist villages and Merlin loved the sense of proprietorial pride that came over Arthur as he showed off the picturesque cottages. This was Arthur’s territory and, though he would never admit it in words, he loved it. 

 

Arthur had also brought him to the country house though they did not go in. It was Uther’s property and Arthur did not feel welcome. Merlin felt Arthur’s grief at that but it was a wound he could not heal. He could simply hold his love’s hand and stay beside him. They did go to the nearby village where Alfred and Mrs. Alfred asked them for tea. 

 

Merlin had met them both at the ceremony but had not really been capable of much attention. He had been aware of how terrified Arthur had been when he sent the invitation to them; afraid of a rejection that would cut to the bone but longing to share his life with those he knew he loved. When Alfred not only agreed to attend the ceremony, but wore The Suit, Arthur’s day had been complete. 

 

Having tea with Alfred and his wife gave Merlin a glimpse of an England he did not recognise and quite liked. It was like falling down the rabbit hole and ending up in somewhere in the 1950s. Mrs. Alfred served tea cakes and inquired after his mother whom she met at the ceremony. Alfred talked to Merlin about his marrows and offered to give him cuttings of his flowering shrubs.

 

“A garden takes some tending” Alfred said, “ You’ll be wanting to make your mark on it” 

 

“I’m not really a gardener” Merlin replied, somewhat bemused. He had no idea where this was going. “My father gardens a little” he added. 

 

“Oh Ar,” said Alfred reflectively “I spent my workin’ days driving cars but I’m a gardener at heart. Growin things is special” 

 

Merlin wondered if the mould that had grown on the damp patch on the ceiling in his first Belfast flat counted as growing things. He looked across at Arthur seeking to share the joke. Arthur was looking at both of them with the expression of a four year old given a hermetically sealed Easter egg: He knew he was looking at something good but he wasn’t sure how to get to it. 

 

Merlin felt his emotions turn to sentimental sap. Unsure if any overt displays of affection would push Alfred’s acceptance too far, he settled for giving Arthur a nudge with his foot. 

 

“Hey” he said. Arthur smiled at him. “Did you ever do any gardening then?” Merlin knew the answer but he wanted to hear Arthur’s voice. 

 

“Of course not” Arthur said, putting on his patrician tone “I had staff, remember” 

 

“Catch yourself on Boy” Merlin laughed, deliberately Belfast. “I’ll get you behind a lawnmower yet” 

It was dodgy ground, he knew, the row had barely healed over, but Merlin wanted to be able laugh about it – to show Arthur that nothing was taboo between them. 

 

Arthur seemed to get it. He smiled widely and then said “Only if it is a fully motorised ride on mower” 

 

Alfred snorted. “You allus did like your engines” he said. “What ever happened to that red number you used to drive?” 

 

“I gave it to Merlin” Arthur told him. 

 

“Thass good” Alfred said, “I allus thought you drove too fast in that thing, beautiful though it is”

 

Arthur looked at Alfred with mischief in his eyes. “You don’t think Merlin would drive fast?” he asked. 

 

Alfred took a measured look at both of them. 

 

“No I don’t” he said seriously, taking a mouthful of tea before continuing. “Not but that he may take corners a bit close, but no, no speeding. More stately like ” 

Merlin spluttered his tea cake. No one in their right minds (or otherwise) had ever called him stately (it was the ears probably) but Arthur was giving a warm look as if he had grown a crown and sceptre. Alfred was calmly chewing a crumpet.

 

“More tea” said Mrs. Alfred and Arthur pushed his cup forward. 

 

Later, as they travelled home Merlin was thoughtful. 

 

“Alfred was your father’s chauffeur wasn’t he” he asked finally. Arthur did not look away from the road but nodded. Merlin thought some more. 

 

“Maybe I was a bit ... prejudiced on the idea of what staff meant” he said. Arthur said nothing. Merlin went on, taking a deep breath. “Maybe we could look at it again”. 

 

“As you wish” Arthur said softly. Merlin, as a responsible member (ish) of the Emergency services did not believe in distracting drivers at the wheel so he resisted the temptation to give Arthur a clip on the ear. He gave a glare and knew from the low chuckle beside him that Arthur knew what he was thinking. It was a good feeling. 

 

After they got home Arthur returned to the subject of the MG. 

 

“Do you want me to bring it up from London?” Arthur asked. Merlin considered for a moment but said no. The car meant so much to Arthur and he had said that Merlin was to drive it. Merlin decided to wait until he could drive it himself. The tiny smile on Arthur’s face when he said that told him he had made the right decision. 

 

It was a few days after that trip that Arthur called up to Merlin, who had been involved in a Skype conversation with his mother. Mrs. Balinson was a new entrant in the internet generation but she had taken to it as a natural. Which meant, for Merlin, long discussions on his health interspersed with queries as to what exactly was that strange shape over his left shoulder (Bathrobe, Mum, can’t you tell). Merlin loved her but found it exhausting, so he was glad of Arthur’s call. 

 

When he came downstairs (without help – he was very proud) he noted that Arthur looked guilty. The sort of guilty that came from eating the last of the luxury biscuits (the second lot of replacements – they had become an addiction.) Merlin knew for a fact that Arthur had not taken the last biscuit because he himself had eaten it that morning. He reflected ruefully that he was becoming a Hobbit. There was breakfast, then second breakfast (when Arthur woke up – he was not a morning person) then elevenses (when the biscuit met its demise) then lunch and now Arthur was calling him for two thirtyses. The hobbit idea was compounded when Merlin came into the kitchen and found Gaffer Gamgee sitting at the kitchen table. 

 

“Ah Merlin” Arthur exclaimed as Merlin entered. “This is Jack Crabtree. He does the garden” 

 

Merlin stopped at the door. Of course the hobbit ‘did’ the garden. It was inevitable. Arthur was still talking. 

 

“Jack, this is Merlin” 

 

Jack took a meditative sip of his tea. “Ar” he said “Amazing bird that is” 

Merlin could swear he heard his jaw drop. Arthur, standing behind Jack Crabtree, was making faces that meant either he was in extreme pain, or that he was trying hard not to laugh. Merlin wasn’t sure which one he wanted to be true. 

 

Jack Crabtree took another gulp “I seed one once’t taking a pigeon in mid-air. Amazing that was. Not pretty mind, but amazing. Good strong name” 

“I’ve always thought so.” Arthur said, face returned to normal. 

 

Merlin, still partly in The Shire, sat down and channelled Bilbo. “What do you know about the apple trees in the garden” he asked. 

 

Jack Crabtree settled back in his chair. “Well, I knowed this garden in the time of Mrs. Meadows. She was afore the Leadbetters and they sold to the Frobishers afore you Mr. Pendragon. So you could say I knowed those trees from the pip so to speak”. He gave Merlin a sharp look. “Do you know apples?” he asked in s deceptively quiet tone. 

 

“No” Merlin said. “My dad does though. He only has an espalier because the garden is small” 

“Nothing wrong with making do” Jack Crabtree said and Merlin felt it was a stamp of approval. He was beginning to see the difference between his middle class distaste for ‘servants’ and the upper class obligation to find employment for retainers. 

All this time Arthur was sitting with what Merlin recognised as a knowing look on his face. When Jack Crabtree had finished his tea and gone outside, Arthur moved his chair closer to Merlin. He said nothing but his expression now had vague hints of smug. There was silence. Merlin broke it. 

“Maybe we should rethink the lawnmower” he said. Arthur gave him a beaming grin that was definitely imbued with smug, before heading back to the study. 

Merlin decided they would have words later. 

Probably at nineses. 

******* 

When Arthur eventually ventured out from his study his expression was rueful but his eyes were laughing. 

“Am I in still in trouble” he asked. 

“Do you think you should be?” Merlin answered tartly. 

He gathered by the way Arthur wrapped him in closely folded arms and claimed his lips that Arthur did not think so. He thought he heard Arthur murmur something about hats but at the time Merlin would be first to admit that his blood supply was definitely headed somewhere other than his brain and he couldn’t be sure. With what was left of his processing power he decided that exercise was a good way to work off the extra biscuits; though given his damaged state, such exercise should be undertaken in bed. 

 

For health and safety reasons. 

 

He put all of this into one gasped “Bed?” 

 

Arthur made a sound somewhere between a growl and a groan. “Couch” he said. 

 

Merlin sighed as he thought of the window blinds they had not yet bought but that was the last coherent thought he had for some time. 

 

===== 

 

Over the next few weeks things were quietly busy. Merlin had regular appointments with the physiotherapist and felt himself grow stronger and more capable. He took to working in the garden, finding a strange companionship with Jack Crabtree who allowed him to weed and tend very specific areas. 

 

“You stick to what you know” Jack Crabtree said. “And if’n you don’t know what it is, don’t dig it up. There’s many an old flower sleeping in these beds and it’s the unexpected as gives the most pleasure” 

 

Merlin respected a man who got pleasure from flowers and made sure that Jack Crabtree’s favourite biscuits (ginger nuts) were on the shopping list, realising as he did so that making a shopping list seemed to have become his job. He didn’t mind. It was another thing that made their life together real. 

 

Many of Arthur’s evenings were spent with the Parish council. He filled Merlin in on the personalities and incidents of meetings but didn’t have long discussions about it. Merlin assumed that Arthur thought he would be bored and tried to ask questions but Arthur’s answers were short and Merlin came to the conclusion that nothing much happened to talk about. 

 

The exception came one evening when Arthur returned and was even more quiet than usual. On Merlin’s questioning Arthur spoke. 

 

“There’s to be an election for the parish Council position” he said. 

 

Merlin was surprised. “I thought you were unopposed – appointed by common consent?” he said. 

 

“Not so common” was Arthur’s reply. “An old member has returned and wants the position” 

 

Merlin was indignant. “Can they do that?” he demanded “It’s not fair” 

 

Arthur laughed. “You sound so fierce” he said “But there’s no need to be upset on my behalf. It’s okay. I’m fine about it” He pulled Merlin closer to him “Now tell me, what did Jack Crabtree say about your idea for the roses?” 

+++ 

In between local business, they organised their financial affairs, setting up a joint bank account (called ‘Home’ to Merlin’s secret delight. They also travelled to London, where, in the sleek steel and leather surroundings of Arthur’s solicitor’s offices Merlin signed the trustee documents. 

 

Merlin looked at the pages, each with a neat ‘Merlin Balinson’ in the appropriate places. Merlin quite like the idea of mutual double barrelled names for partners – Brown becomes Jones-Brown and Jones becomes Brown-Jones. But no matter how much he liked the idea, the reality of any combination of Pendragon/Balinson had too many syllables to make it workable. He was stuck with Balinson. 

 

“So what does all this mean?” he asked as he signed the last page. The solicitor- a middle aged man in a Saville row suit and a very expensive watch – the antithesis of a family solicitor, made a tutting noise. 

 

“You are supposed to ask that before you sign” said Arthur with amusement. “I could own your right kidney now for all you know”

 

The presence of the sharp suited lawyer curbed Merlin from saying that as far as he was concerned Arthur already did. He must have given a look that said that much because he could see Arthur’s neck flush slightly as he bent over the document hiding his face. 

 

“What it means, Mr. Balinson” said the solicitor formally “Is that you now have an equal right to benefit from any and all proceeds of the Trust and that both you and Mr. Pendragon must agree on any expenditure of monies from the Trust.” 

 

“I have to ask you if I want to spend anything” Arthur clarified. 

 

“Not exactly” the solicitor coughed but both Merlin and Arthur ignored him. 

“Do you want to spend money?” Merlin asked.  
Arthur looked at him. “Would you let me?” he said. Merlin started to answer but the solicitor’s more frequent coughing meant either he was developing a bad cold or he wanted them out of his office. They went. 

 

As they walked out into the sunshine-lit London street, Merlin continued the conversation.

 

“Having me meet Jack Crabtree was part of a cunning plan then?” he inquired lightly. 

 

“I don’t do cunning plans, Merlin” Arthur replied. “not when it comes to you. You see through me” 

 

Merlin looked at him as the London traffic swept past with a stately rumble. He wasn’t sure he did see through Arthur. Every time he thought he had reached to the core of the man, another layer appeared. Merlin glanced down at the ring on his finger. With a sudden impulse he grasped Arthur’s hand as they walked. It didn’t matter if he never managed to see Arthur’s soul. Even if he never found it, he knew it was his. He tightened his grip. 

 

“What?” said Arthur. 

“Just happy” Merlin said.


	5. Staying

They had decided to stay in London for a night and though Arthur had wanted a hotel, Merlin was reluctant. 

 

“You just gave me a say in our finances and I say we don’t spend money on a hotel when Calum has a perfectly good room to lend us” he said reasonably. 

 

“But it’s in Battersea!” whined Arthur with Chelsea snobbery.

 

Merlin was adamant and so they stayed with Calum in his apartment. Calum’s apartment was very modern and very sophisticated and despite his distaste of the area Arthur was impressed. He still objected to the location even though Calum insisted that it was an up and coming area.

“Just wait till the Power Station is redeveloped” Calum added. “People will be begging to live here” 

 

Arthur was unconvinced and would not eat there, taking Merlin to his old stomping grounds for lunch. They had just exited the Tube station when a voice, brisk and sharp broke in on them. 

 

“Arthur Pendragon! Back in the land of the living I see. About time too!” Merlin saw that the speaker was a smartly dressed woman and vaguely remembered seeing her before – Vivian... something ... He was still trying to remember her name when Arthur introduced her to him. 

 

“And this is my partner, Merlin Balinson” Arthur concluded. Merlin felt a little glow. He knew they had both used the term before but it still made him happy to acknowledge their bond in public. 

 

Vivian extended her hand “Pleased to meet at last” she said. “I never did agree with all that fuss last year. Storm in a tea- cup I thought”. Merlin thought it had been a pretty big tea cup but before he could say anything he was jostled by a passer-by and his always precarious hold on his balance wavered. Arthur pulled him upright as Vivian spoke. 

 

“Oh yes, you were injured. I remember reading about it. Have you recovered? Well obviously, if you are here” She did not pause for breath, but looking round she gestured towards an up-market coffee house behind them. “I was just popping in for a sandwich if you have a few minutes to catch up?” 

 

Merlin felt Arthur give him a quick glance and nodded. He knew Arthur would want to get the news from Westminster. They sat inside and Merlin nibbled his goat's cheese wrap as Vivian talked of Parliamentary doings, interspersing her conversation with names; some Merlin knew but many he did not. Arthur asked a few questions but for the most part he listened and though both sought to include Merlin, he was glad when Vivian ended the chat with a quick look at her watch. 

 

“I have a meeting to get to” she said “But it has been lovely to talk with you both.” She smiled and held out her hand to Arthur “I do hope we’ll be seeing you back in the arena again Arthur” she added. “You are missed” 

 

Arthur did not show any signs of wanting to visit the House so they stayed in the coffee shop a while longer, lingering over pie. Arthur had arranged a theatre trip for the evening, determined that Merlin would get a visitor’s experience of London. Merlin had been expecting a plush West End theatre and was slightly dismayed when Arthur produced tickets for Shakespeare’s Globe. 

 

“Isn’t it just bare benches” Merlin would deny forever that he whimpered when he saw the tickets. 

 

“I’ll make sure you have a cushion for your delicate backside” was Arthur’s response. They had been sitting at Calum’s marble topped breakfast bar at the time, munching toast and Calum’s mum’s homemade marmalade that hadn’t quite set and ran off the toast. Merlin used the dripping toast as an excuse for the blush that he felt creeping over his face as Arthur spoke. 

 

Calum had declined to accompany them to the Globe. “I had enough Shakespeare at school” he said. “But I promise not to lock youse out. Just don’t lose me key. They think I’m respectable here. Wouldn’t want the neighbours to think I had wild friends.” 

 

Now, with the late afternoon sun warming them, they were in no hurry. They wandered through the crowds of tourists and took a river bus from the Embankment to Bankside, disembarking among a crowd of German tourists who moved off en masse to take pictures of the Globe. It was warm and St Pauls glistened on the other side of the Thames. Merlin pointed to a low wall by the river. 

 

“Let’s sit” he said. They sat, shoulders touching and looked at the great cathedral beyond the mirrored river. This was Arthur’s town, and Merlin felt it; he even felt a tug of his own towards the city. Was London everyone’s town he thought? 

 

“This is yours” he said, giving voice to his thoughts. “Do you want to come back?” 

 

Arthur started as though scalded. “No!” he said sharply. “No I don’t. I want to go home” 

 

++++++++ 

They headed for home the next morning. They had travelled to London by train, though Merlin would, if forced, admit that he was more than half in love with Arthur’s Alfa Romeo, his ‘respectable’ car. Many times Merlin had folded thankfully onto the suede seats after a gruelling physio session and he would not have minded a longer journey. But Arthur had been adamant about the train and now Merlin knew why. They stood in the lock up garage staring at the scarlet MG. 

 

“So” said Arthur, “Are you ready to drive home?” 

 

Merlin knew he wasn’t but Arthur’s face looked so hopeful he couldn’t refuse. 

 

“If you drive through the city” he said “I’ll go on from there” 

 

Merlin regretted his decision half an hour into his stint at the wheel. The MG was a smooth drive but it was built in an age before power steering and Merlin felt he had to lift the car around each corner. The gears were smooth enough but he felt each change as he worked the clutch and gearstick. He could feel pain stretching between his shoulder blades, an ache growing in his leg but he refused to stop. He had seen the look on Arthur’s face when he had said yes to driving and he so wanted to make Arthur proud. He drove on. 

 

“Pull in at the next service station, I want coffee” Arthur’s voice broke into the pain. He pulled in and got out of the car when Arthur headed for the shop. Merlin tried to stretch surreptitiously but the ache was stubborn and would not go. Arthur returned with two cups of coffee and a packet of paracetomol. He went to the driver’s side. 

 

“Get in” Arthur said, handing over the cup. “I’ll take it from here” 

 

The drive home was not uncomfortable. Arthur chatted about the countryside through which they travelled, commenting on the names of villages once they had left the motorway. Merlin showed interest and replied with his own comments. It was definitely not uncomfortable. They had been through too much together to ever feel uncomfortable. 

 

Except... 

 

Merlin felt that he had let Arthur down. Driving the MG had been a symbol of hope during the dark days and darker nights of pain and hospital and operations and setbacks. Merlin had clung to the idea as a talisman – and sometimes he had physically clung to the key chain as the manifestation of that hope. He knew Arthur felt it just as fervently and had sought it out as a definite sign that Merlin was better. And Merlin wasn’t. 

Merlin was still trying to find a way to talk about it when they swung into the High street and drove towards their house. 

 

As they passed a group of people outside the cafe, a sharp scream was audible. It was followed by the usual mumbles of a crowd witnessing an accident. Merlin glanced at Arthur, who pulled in and stopped the car. Before the brakes were on, Merlin was out, the instinct to run towards a scream still deeply imbued in him. 

 

The crowd surrounded a plump woman sitting on the ground, her bags scattered around her. Blood poured from a deep gash on her leg and she was whimpering slightly. Merlin recognised her as the woman in the store but it did not stop him from being professional. He pushed through the crowd – all of them standing helplessly fascinated by the blood. 

 

“I’m a paramedic.” he said, kneeling beside the woman. “Are you hurting anywhere else?” It was a basic principle that the most obvious injury was not always the most serious, but the injured women snorted in scorn. 

 

“It’s BLOODY obvious where I’m hurt” she snapped, emphasising the ‘bloody’. Merlin gave in inward sigh. This was not going to be easy. 

 

“She came down on her leg” a woman behind answered. “Tripped over that thing” she pointed behind her at a sharp piece of metal sticking up from the pavement. 

 

“And that’s what comes of messing with a perfectly good pavement” the injured woman snapped. “When I was a girl you could walk straight along here blindfolded and not have a problem and now with all these poles and signs and bins and now seats – there’s no room to walk!”. She glared at Arthur, standing behind Merlin. “Outsiders, telling us what to do, it’s disgraceful” She made to rise but winced and fell back. Merlin reached out to get a closer look at the gash but the woman pulled away from him. 

 

“I’m not having the likes of him feeling my legs!” she complained to the crowd in general. Merlin could feel his face flush and did not dare look at Arthur. 

 

“Oh give over Edie!” the first speaker said flatly “It’s not like he fancies your legs” 

 

‘ Edie’ looked thoughtful for a moment. “Thass true” she said, thrusting her bloody leg at Merlin. 

 

“I’ll need my kit” Merlin said to Arthur who replied with a bemused look. Merlin sighed “Cupboard under the stairs, top shelf” he said patiently before turning back to his patient and checking for breaks. 

 

“My George was just the same” ‘Edie’commented. “Forty years in the same house and he still didn’t know where his socks were.” Merlin hissed a laugh as he continued his examination, pausing only when Arthur returned, only slightly out of breath. Merlin was impressed at how fit Arthur still was, though admittedly he had been helping with the exercise.

 

“So what’s a parawhatchamacallit then?” his patient demanded. Merlin was saved from answering by her companion. 

 

“Oh you know Edie! Like Josh in Casualty? Whizzing about on motorbikes and all” 

 

Merlin felt his muscles tense at the reminder. ‘Edie’ looked thoughtful.

 

“D’you have one of them bikes then?” she asked. Merlin nodded. 

 

“Thass where you got that limp then” she said in a satisfied tone. “Nasty loud things. My nephew got one. ‘Mark my words’ I said to his mother ‘He’ll come to a bad end’ And sure enough he married a girl from Crickly way and she ran off with one of those New Age travellers and went to live on a commune or such and Eric, that’s my nephew had to pay the mortgage on his own and gave up cricket and it would never have happened if his mother had stood firm but she was one of those Alstons from Lower Buckleton and none of them ever had any backbone” 

 

All the time she was speaking Merlin was tending her wound and he knew she was in pain. He glanced up at Arthur, standing close and wondered if he remembered long rambling monologues about the nature of the TARDIS when Merlin’s pain med’s were almost due. He considered the possibility that his patient was likewise deflecting. 

 

“And don’t you think this will win you any favours my lad – Even if you are a parachutist as you say – and I have my doubts not having seen you in a uniform at all, then you are just doing your job and you won’t find me thanking the postman for bringing my letters – not that he is ever on time, mind....” 

Merlin tuned out her rant and revised his thoughts to include the possibility that she was a gossip without a good word for anyone. 

 

He finished his ministrations and snapped off the gloves he had donned to examine the wound. “You will need stitches” he said. “ I recommend going to an A&E” 

 

“I can drive you, Mrs. Glossup” Arthur said in the lazy drawl he used when he was being artificially polite. 

 

“In that thing?” said Edie pointing at the MG, “That’s like something from the films and no Respectable lady would drive in it. I’m surprised at you Arthur Pendragon, driving such a lewd car. It’s obvious you’ve come under bad influences. Mavis can take me to Doctor Rutherford in Ashbridge. He’ll see me right. And check that you’ve done no damage” She gave an ungrateful nod towards Merlin, stoically gathering his supplies.

 

“You’ll need an appointment “ said one of the fascinated onlookers

 

“No I won’t” Edie was firm “If Peter Rutherford leaves me waiting he’ll find out what Katie Lovage said at the back of the Tenson cricket club in June ‘66” 

There was an audible sigh from the onlookers when it appeared evident that Mrs. Glossup was not going to say more. Arthur was thin lipped and silent as she rose to her feet, complaining loudly, to be led away to a nearby car. 

 

Merlin tidied up his kit, and looked at Arthur. “You okay?” he said softly, holding out his hand to be helped up. Arthur hauled him standing. 

 

“She has a vicious tongue” Arthur said. 

 

Merlin wanted to shrug, but given the effect her words had had on him on their first meeting he could only nod. He wound his fingers through Arthur’s and sighed. 

 

“Let’s go home” he said. 

++++++++ 

Merlin found it hard to sleep that night but he tried to keep his sleeplessness from becoming restlessness out of courtesy to Arthur. This business of sleeping together was taking some getting used to. The Not-Sleeping part of sleeping together was wonderful and the cuddling together afterwards was something he was training Arthur to enjoy. Even waking up to seeing object of your affection with bed hair and morning breath was good. It was the actual sleeping with another human in the bed that was difficult. 

 

As an only child, Merlin had always had his own room. Apart from Doonshee he had not shared a room with anyone and had grown accustomed to silence. He found it distracting to have breathing in the same room. He would lie awake listening to the soft sound, feeling both comforted and irritated. Ironically he slept best enfolded in Arthur’s arms but Merlin was a wriggler and Arthur a very light sleeper who did not move much. The result was Arthur woke up whenever Merlin moved – much to Merlin’s dismay. He had started to sleep on the far side of the bed to stop that happening but that in turn meant he found it hard to sleep. Hence this wakeful night. 

 

As he lay, he thought over the events of the day and worked things out in his mind. His thoughts must have been loud because Arthur stirred, his arm reaching out in a plea Merlin could not ignore. He curled into Arthur’s chest and fell asleep. 

 

Merlin woke early, too early for breakfast, but he knew he wouldn’t sleep again. Pulling on a hoodie against the early morning chill he got up and padded across the room to the chairs in the window embrasure. 

 

The window did not look east; it was more of an evening room, but Merlin often enjoyed watching the light grow and spread through the garden, turning grey into sparkling colour. This morning the light show did not distract him from the still depressing thoughts racing around his mind. 

 

A stirring behind him disturbed his reverie. Arthur had found him missing and was looking for him. 

 

“You doing your dawn worship thing again?” Arthur called lightly. Merlin gave an equally light answer but something in his voice must have given him away because in an instant Arthur was beside him, sitting forward in the other chair, leaning in to him. 

 

“You okay?” he said. Merlin had often wondered if they should get a couch for those times they wanted to cuddle here, but with the bed a few metres away it seemed superfluous. Now he wished he had changed the furniture, because, more than anything, he wanted to feel Arthur’s touch. 

 

“ I was thinking about yesterday” Merlin said without revealing much. 

 

Arthur sighed. “I’m sorry” he said. “I shouldn’t have asked you to drive yet. It’s too soon” 

 

Merlin looked out to where the apple trees were emerging from the night gloom, twisted shapes in the dawn light. “I don’t think there will be a right time” he said softly. He raised his left arm and placed it carefully on the arm of the chair. “My arm is already better than the doctors ever hoped. I don’t think I can expect more” he looked at Arthur, fearing to see his closed expression. “I know what driving the car meant to you – to me too if I’m honest. But I think this is what I am, all I will be” 

 

Arthur did not reply and Merlin kept speaking, his eyes fixed on the rug between the chairs. 

 

“I know, I’ve known for ages that I wouldn’t be able to work again but yesterday.... I didn’t realise I’d miss it... I ... everything was so bleak but it was busy, with doctors and pain and so much stuff going on so that even the boredom was full and I didn’t have time to ... well to feel... and yesterday ... I was good at my job Arthur, I was good at it and I did good with it and I ... it breaks my heart that I can’t do it again.” 

 

Merlin finally raised his eyes to see tears falling silently down Arthur’s cheeks. Merlin did not know what to do or say. They sat there, sitting closely but separated by a metre of Turkish carpet as daylight filled the window and it was time to move. 

 

========  
Two days later Arthur put a copy of the local newspaper in front of Merlin as he sat on the patio. 

 

“Page four” he said “I think you should apply”. 

 

Merlin checked page four and found an ad seeking applicants for call takers at the local ambulance trust. He pushed the paper away angrily. 

 

“That’s not the same” he snapped. “That’s just answering phones. Anyone could do it” 

 

Arthur looked at him gravely from across the potted plants. “You’re making assumptions” he said. “A bit like assuming working on a ambulance was just driving” 

 

“Not at all!” Merlin bit out. “I have weeding to do”. He stood up and actively did not flounce towards the garden.  
In the process of working in the garden Merlin had discovered there was more of his father in him than he thought. Now he took out his frustrations on dandelion roots, digging furiously with his trowel as he tried to work out his own feelings of inadequacy. 

 

That evening he checked out the ad again, took note of the application date and dug out his old CV. He did a little updating and printed it out with a brief covering letter. He knew he would have to admit to Arthur that he had backed down over the application and it dinted his pride to do so, but given that he hated secrets, he knew he would. He postponed it to the morning. 

 

Breakfast; tea toast and grumpiness, was not the place for serious conversations but Merlin was brave and risked it. “So” Merlin said, teapot in hand “I have my application ready to send”. He braced himself for an ‘I told you so’ from Arthur but instead was rewarded with a beaming smile. He smiled back and realised that Arthur’s smile had become a rarity lately. 

 

“Can I see your CV?” Arthur asked. 

 

“Why?” Merlin said defensively. 

 

“Because I know you and I want to see what you’ve written. Hand it over ” Arthur said peremptorily. Merlin was reluctant but Arthur gave him the ‘don’t make me say it again’ eyebrows which made Merlin want to either giggle or salute. He did neither and gave Arthur the page. Arthur scrutinised it with care then handed it back.

 

“I wouldn’t hire you” he said shortly. 

 

Merlin almost growled. He wanted to say that Arthur was a supercilious, pompous prat who had just trampled on his feelings but what he managed to say was “Oh” 

 

Arthur looked at him. 

 

“Did you ever learn how to write a CV” he asked mildly. 

 

“I think we had a lesson before the GCSE” Merlin replied meekly. Arthur sighed. 

 

“No wonder Public School graduates do better. We know how to sell ourselves” he said. 

 

Merlin couldn’t help himself. “There’s a word for that you know” he said. 

 

Arthur gave him the ‘I can’t believe you said that Merlin’ look complete with raised eyebrows. He didn’t respond though, he simply took up the CV and pointed at it. 

 

“Here: you’ve said you were an instructor in the Gaeltacht. Apart from the fact that nobody here knows what a Gaeltacht is, even if they did, this implies that you taught languages. Merlin, you are dreadful at languages. Don’t you think it might be important to say to taught sea sports?” 

 

Merlin nodded. That made sense. 

 

“And here” Arthur was relentless “You say you worked in an office. It was a taxi office. Don’t you think that having experience of dispatching taxis might be relevant?” 

 

Merlin felt his checks heat as he blushed. Humiliation filled him as he grabbed the page from Arthur’s hand. 

 

“I didn’t want the stupid job in the first place” he snapped, conscious of how childish he sounded. He crumpled up the page and threw in the kitchen bin. 

 

“I’ll be in the garden” he said marching out. 

 

For a second day the dandelions took a beating. (Later Jack would comment on what a good job Merlin made of weeding. “It’s not many as ull take the time to go after the roots – you’ve got the makings of a gardener in you”) 

 

Eventually aching shoulders and a back trying to spasm forced him indoors. In the kitchen he found crumpets (a new found delight) toasted and kept warm, tea (not from a tea bag) ready to be made (complete with a tea leaf strainer which had been found in the back of a cupboard- a utensil Arthur totally denied ever buying, declaring that it must have fallen from Narnia.). Merlin recognised a bribe when he saw it but he had become partial to crumpets and was not one to scorn offered confectionary. He put on the kettle and made tea. 

 

As he sat at the table, steaming mug in hand, crumpet at his elbow he saw an envelope with his name on it, hidden by the jam jar. The sight gave him a momentary chill and the jam soaked crumpets tasted like ashes. He tore open the envelope. Inside were two A4 pages, neatly printed. One was a revamped version of his CV which, Merlin had to admit, made him appear a lot more capable than he saw himself. The other was a reference, with a large NOT FOR USE printed on the top. 

 

Merlin began to read. His tea had cooled when he looked up again.  
Texting and email had made letter writing defunct and Skype had diminished even those ways of communicating. In their whole relationship there had been few times when they had any need to put their feelings on paper. But here, in the guise of a reference ARTHUR had written a love letter, putting down all of the qualities he admired in Merlin; from Merlin’s steadfastness in the face of disappointment, to his courage in a crisis, his kindness to others, even the way he could make a dull Sunday afternoon worthwhile. Every word oozed love and Merlin felt each one. He reread the ‘reference’, his vision blurred by tears. 

___-

Merlin opened the study door and looked inside. Arthur was sitting at his desk, laptop open, books piled in what looked like a haphazard pile around him. An empty mug and plate of crumbs was evidence of his own indulgence. He looked up as Merlin entered. 

 

“Were the crumpets a peace offering” Merlin asked. 

 

“Did they work?” was Arthur’s response. Merlin turned Arthur’s swivel chair so that he was standing between Arthur’s knees. Leaning down he kissed Arthur deeply. Arthur tasted of crumpets and Darjeeling and Merlin wrapped his hands around Arthur’s head, holding him closer. 

 

“I guess they did work” Arthur murmured as they came up for air. Merlin still held his hands on either side of Arthur’s face. As he looked down at the familiar features, he had an overpowering sensation that this was one of those moments in time that would be fixed in his memory, a moment when all parts of the Universe fitted perfectly. 

 

“I love you” Merlin said seriously “And I know you love me and I know there are many things in this world that matter but nothing matters more than that” 

 

Arthur sighed deeply and buried his face in Merlin’s cotton teeshirt. “ Yes” he said “This is what matters” 

 

It was some time before they moved but eventually practical discomfort outweighed romanticism. 

 

“I’ve written up notes on what you should say at interview” Arthur said lightly, reaching for another closely typed page. 

 

“I won’t get an interview” Merlin was disparaging. 

 

“Oh you will” said Arthur. “I wrote your CV” 

 

______  
Merlin got called for interview. 

 

Arthur did not get elected to the Parish Council . 

______________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is slow to build but the characters will not be rushed. Lives are lived at a speed of one minute per minute and though this is not *that* slow the characters will not let me skip the moments.


	6. Moving backwards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter looks at the events since they moved in from Arthur's point of view - and takes the story on.

Arthur sat in the car, the offending newspaper on the seat beside him. He knew he should go in somewhere and get a coffee but he could not bear the chance of being stared at. It was better to sit in the car and wait for Merlin to return from his interview. 

 

He looked around at the cream suede leather seats. He knew Merlin loved the interior of the car, seen Merlin’s subtle stroking of the seats as he snuggled down. It made Arthur feel good when he had seen it first. This car had been a statement. He had bought it when he first got elected MP, when Ava Renny had very pointedly stated that a scarlet sports car was not exactly the message a sober politician should be sending out. She suggested a black saloon and Arthur had found one. The fact that it bore a sports car marque was his way of showing his own inner rebellion. Now it seemed like the flat punchline of a bad joke. 

 

Arthur threw the newspaper onto the back seat, but the headline still played out in his eyes. Part of him felt resentful. This was meant to be their happy-ever-after. The stories ended with a marriage and happy ever after and yes, okay it wasn’t a marriage because that wasn’t yet allowed but surely it still counted? And yet it wasn’t perfect. Merlin was still broken and his heartfelt grief at the loss of his profession cut too close to the bone for Arthur to think about. 

 

Because Arthur was fine. 

 

Arthur dealt with things. That’s what he was good at, what people expected of him. What Merlin expected... though he wasn’t sure of that. He had let Merlin down, forcing him to drive the MG when he wasn’t ready – pushing him into the realisation of his own infirmity. Arthur hoped that this job would make up for that error.

But Merlin was happy. That mattered. 

 

In the dark days and darker nights when Merlin had hovered on the brink all Arthur wanted from life was that Merlin would recover. Arthur had not realised the extent to which he himself was living on the edges of life, held together with tension until that tension was released. Seeing Merlin in his own house at Abbotsmead had broken a dam of emotion he did not know was there and since then he felt that his emotions were entirely at sea, without an anchor. 

At first the maelstrom of emotion was positive. Arthur had relished seeing Merlin grow stronger, settling into the house he had bought simply because it was convenient and for sale when he was looking. Merlin made it a home, his home and Arthur sailed with him, ignoring the occasional feelings of emptiness that haunted him. He distracted himself with study and Merlin – watching him settle in, and was satisfied. 

 

Their first row had hit him harder than he had imagined it would. He had expected that they would row. It was normal and – if he was honest about it, they bickered all time. He had not expected that it would be over money, it was not something he had ever really worried about before and in the anxiety over Merlin’s health, money had not entered his head.   
Merlin’s frustration therefore came from a clear sky and his angry words shocked Arthur back into the defensive mode he had always adopted in the face of fury. As Merlin spoke; the anger in his voice very evident, Arthur could feel himself detach from the situation and he was ten miles down the road before he realised that he had run away again – run away from Merlin. 

 

He kept driving, wanting to return but not knowing how, until he found he had reached the small village that held Alfred’s retirement cottage. He had pulled up outside the honey coloured house with its blue door and closed his eyes. His phone had beeped loudly – a text reminding him of the meeting that night. He had replied automatically and then, just as automatically sent a brusque text to Merlin saying he would be late. He had stared at the phone waiting and fearing for a reply, his hands shaking. Finally he had left the car and knocked on the door. 

Mrs. Alfred had welcomed him in, offering him tea, which he refused.

“Alfred is in the garden, prinking out the sweet pea.” She had said, “There’s a pair of wellingtons by the door if you want to go out. Wouldn’t want you spoiling your shoes” Arthur realised then that he had come out in jeans and sweatshirt and was lucky he was not in slippers. 

He had found Alfred in the garden kneeling by the pea sticks. Alfred looked up as he came over. 

“Come for tea have’ee?”he said. Arthur crouched down beside him, looking at the tiny plants in the potting trays at his feet. Arthur said nothing and Alfred looked up at him. “Your young man not with’ee then?” Alfred asked. Arthur shook his head. “You two fighting?” Alfred asked bluntly. Arthur nodded again. He had a memory of being eight years old and facing Alfred’s questions after the cricket ball in the greenhouse incident. 

 

“Either of you cheat?” Alfred asked, much more forcefully than before. 

 

“No!” Arthur said, horrified and surprised at how horrified he was. 

 

“Thass all right then” said Alfred. “You’ll be fine. Unless it was about money. Money can be ork’ard” 

 

“It was money” Arthur admitted. 

 

“Ah” said Alfred reflectively, sitting back on his hunkers and looking at his hands, gnarled but strong still “I mind the first money row we had” he said “It were a few weeks after we was wed and the missus took a fancy to a hat. Blue it was – matched her eyes – with frilly things and it cost as much as a week’s rent. I tole her no – tole her we dint have the money to spare. And she cried and said she just wanted summat pretty.” Alfred looked off to the middle distance and his cucumber frames. “It were more’n fifty years ago but I still remember the look on her face. I said to her to remember she was married now and should stop thinking such fancy thoughts. She said nothing, just stared at me with her blue eyes and that look and then got on and made the tea as if everything was normal” Alfred stirred and gathered his tools. “I bought her the hat the next week – couldn’t bear it anymore. She was very nice about it but she never wore it. It’s still in a box at the back of the wardrobe” He looked straight at Arthur. “Son, get your lad the hat and don’t wait a week” 

Arthur gave a rueful laugh. “I’m afraid I’m the one looking for the hat” he said “Though it’s a bit more complicated” 

 

“Things always are” Alfred said “See these seedlings?” he said, pointing at the battered examples of vegetation looking sad and bedraggled against the pea sticks Alfred had in place. Arthur was rather proud he knew what pea sticks were. Alfred continued. “See how they droop? They need water. If they don’t get it they’ll wither away very quickly. But if I take yon watering can and pour it over them they’ll just float away and die.”

Arthur knew something profound had been said. He felt like Luke Skywalker listening to Yoda. Exactly like Luke because Arthur felt totally confused and slightly damp, standing by the sad looking seedlings in borrowed welly boots. 

He sighed deeply, hoping it sounded intelligent. Alfred sat back on his haunches and looking up at Arthur, he chuckled. 

 

“Help me up Arthur” Alfred said, raising a hand “The missus will have tea for ‘ee I’m sure”

 

They walked companionably along the narrow garden path. 

 

“Is it important?” Alfred said suddenly. “This thing you rowed about. How important is it?” 

 

Arthur stopped on the muddy path. How important was it? The anger he had felt at Merlin’s words had faded but was still there. Was that important? The money issue was important to Merlin. He had a memory of Merlin’s face as he spoke of worry and felt his stomach contract. Okay, so romance writers would say it was his heart but Arthur was a realist. He was sick to the stomach at the thought of causing hurt to Merlin. 

“No” he said involuntarily. “It’s not important. Not as important as...” 

 

“Then maybe you should say so” Alfred said mildly, checking his apple trees for new growth. “Words is important. Y’ll have to say it” 

 

Arthur grunted and moved on. He could make words work with other people but with Merlin he couldn’t play with them. It would have to be right. 

 

When they got to the house they both took a minute to rid themselves of the muddy wellingtons and assorted accretions of garden soil. Alfred looked over at Arthur before moving on. 

 

“And if’n your lad should get you a hat” he began. “See if you could bring yourself to wear it” He passed Arthur and went into the kitchen. Arthur stood for a moment staring after him before following. 

 

That night, after the parish meeting, after the anti-climatic return to Merlin and the sleepy talk of public seating, Arthur woke to the dark of the early hours. Merlin, who had fallen asleep curled into Arthur’s side, had, as was his habit, wriggled and flopped around to face the other way and in the process woken Arthur. He knew he wouldn’t get back to sleep and he lay listening to the soft whufs coming from the other pillow. 

He relaxed into the sound. Although they were not touching, the sound bonded them together in a package that was home. Arthur was terrified that his own instinct to disengage, to run could have made him lose that. As the dawn light edged round the window he had resolved to contact his solicitor and fix it so that no matter how stupid Arthur was, Merlin would be secure. 

In the days that followed he felt surprisingly shy around Merlin – except in bed. He reflected that most of their relationship to date had been about words and sex. The actual mechanics of two adults living in the same space was entirely new. Arthur realised with a shock that he had never ‘lived’ lived with another person. Apart from obligatory meal times, interactions with his father had been sporadic and, as an adult, increasingly rare. Mrs. Hudson dealt with necessities and there were never discussions over who forgot to get the toilet paper or who ate the last of the biscuits. Living with Merlin was a steep learning curve and having provoked such a painful row so quickly Arthur was scared of failing again. 

 

And he was nervous of too much interaction. The Law course which had been his refuge when Merlin was sick became his distraction, though he doubted its usefulness in his life. And even then he had messed up. Merlin had been forced to push himself too far because Arthur wasn’t around and when Arthur saw him, shaking, seeking pain relief and the much hated wheelchair, he resolved to give Merlin as much time as he needed. 

 

And he did. They went places. He brought Merlin to see the sights – even brought him to the neighbourhood of his old home for the much heralded visit to Alfred’s home. Alfred had not mentioned his earlier visit and had greeted Merlin with quiet enthusiasm. Mrs. Alfred had even baked her famous tea cake, so soaked in rum that Arthur was convinced the still non drinking Merlin was slightly tipsy when they left. 

 

Arthur wondered at Alfred’s acceptance of his relationship with Merlin. His was older than his father and in many ways much more conservative but Arthur had never had anything but approval from him. He had wondered aloud about it to Merlin over elevenses one day. 

 

Merlin stirred his coffee absently. “Mrs. Alfred sat beside my mum at the reception” he said. “They talked a lot. Did you know they had a son?” 

 

“Harold? Yes” Arthur replied. Harold had been killed in the Falklands before Alfred came to them. 

“She showed mum a picture” Merlin said. 

 

“I’ve seen it” Arthur noted – the picture of Harold in his dress uniform took pride of place in Alfred’s parlour. 

 

Merlin shook his head. “Not that one.” he said “Mum said he was a punk rocker – you know all Seventies: Mohawk, safety pins through the nose, that sort of thing. It seems that Alfred didn’t approve. Told him to shape up. So he did and joined the army” 

 

Merlin gave his coffee another unnecessary stir. “Mum thinks that Alfred has learned to love the son he had” he said softly. 

 

Arthur felt tears prick at his eyelids. Alfred was like a father to him and Arthur knew he loved him but he was not his father. And Arthur’s own father could not bring himself to love the son he had. Arthur could feel Merlin watching him and he schooled his face not to show his pain. Something must have leaked through though because Merlin pressed a soft kiss to his forehead as he carried his cup to the dishwasher. It was strange but Arthur found it so much easier to talk when Merlin was a disembodied voice at the end of a phone line, or a drugged up body attached to machines in a hospital bed. This Merlin, whose eyes filled with concern as they looked at Arthur, was hard to talk to. Arthur had too often seen pain in those eyes – he could not bear to see more. He had made a joke and passed off the moment. 

 

London was supposed to be good. It had started off that way. As Merlin signed the documents that tied their finances he had smiled at Arthur and for the first time ever Arthur felt a surge of pure possessiveness. This man, this wonderful man, belonged to Arthur because he chose to – and Arthur knew he belonged to Merlin just as much. It was a good feeling. 

 

And then they met Vivian.

 

It had been natural to go with her for coffee, to sit and hear her talk. Vivian spoke about people and issues Arthur knew well, but she also spoke of people and issues he did not know and his lack of inside knowledge wrenched at his heart. He belonged in this world but he has no place in it. As Vivian left to go on with her busy life Arthur felt the taste of coffee turn bitter in his mouth. All he wanted was to run back to Abbotsmead and pretend he had never come here.. 

 

But he had had one more failure before he could hide. Merlin had been so much better, walking well, having more and more movement in his arm and hand. The MG would be the final sign of his recovery. Ten minutes into the journey Arthur knew he was wrong. Merlin was suffering at every gear change and Arthur felt the guilt sink into his pores. For days afterwards he was afraid to look at Merlin, afraid to see the doubt he had put there. Seeing the advertisement seemed like an escape – a way to make amends for the hurt he had caused.

 

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬Arthur’s reveries were interrupted by an impatient tapping at the window. Merlin had returned from his interview. Unlocking the car, Arthur let him in, noting the slump in Merlin’s shoulders as he sat into the Alfa’s seat. There was no surreptitious patting of the leather either. Arthur gave a silent sigh. The interview had not gone well. As he started the engine he had a moment of self-hatred. Once again, as with the MG he had set Merlin up for a fall, and judging from the silent form beside him, it was a big one. Still bruised from his own pain Arthur still managed to feel sympathy. 

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. 

 

Merlin shook his head. “Let’s just go home” he said. Arthur drove. 

 

After about half an hour Merlin began to speak. “We miscalculated” he said. “We forgot that modern call takers need keyboard skills” 

 

“You have keyboard skills!” Arthur protested. “You are really good with computers” 

 

Merlin gave bitter laugh. “They need accuracy. And accuracy needs two good hands. Not my fumble-fingers” 

 

Arthur was silent. He felt despair rise up around him like the growing dusk. No matter what they tried, life seemed to block all options. As they drove through the gathering dark Arthur tried to think of ways to fix this, to make this better, to bring back the smile to Merlin, to find a direction to their lives. He couldn’t think of a single thing. 

 

In the back seat the newspaper lay open on a bare headline. 

 

FAILDRAGON: Locals say no to Ex Minister.   
“Arthur Pendragon who resigned his ministerial position and his Parliamentary seat last year under a cloud of notoriety failed even to get elected to a village council....” 

 

They didn’t talk when they got back. Or rather they did talk – quite a lot – but not about feelings or disappointment or jobs. They talked of mundane things about the house, or had passionate debates about superheroes. One day Merlin dug out the architect’s drawings of the house in Doonshee and they spent the day poring over them, planning how it would look and what they would do in some amorphous future that was not stated. That was a good day. Arthur finished his last assignment and sent it off. The days he spent working on it were less good. He did not register for the next module. He did not see the point. 

Once or twice Arthur thought that Merlin might have wanted to open a deeper conversation but he selfishly deflected it. Arthur was not ready for a talk just yet. 

 

One afternoon Arthur decided to light a real fire in the front sitting room and set up a comfortable afternoon. The weather had been damp and cold and although ‘cosy’ was a concept derided by modern designers, it was something Arthur craved. Merlin found him kneeling in front of the grate with a smouldering heap that looked nothing like a fire. When he had finished laughing, Merlin took over, showing Arthur how to set a fire. 

 

“I can’t believe you don’t know this” Merlin said as the flame turned to a blaze. 

 

“Staff, Merlin, remember?” Arthur said, half seriously as he put on a movie. Merlin laughed. 

“You sound like Gandalf” he said and Arthur relaxed into a laugh of his own. They settled down onto the soft cushions of the couch and Arthur felt some of the tension leave him as Merlin snuggled close. It seemed that this happened less frequently now. Even at night Merlin slept on the other side of the bed, leaving Arthur lonely on ‘his’ side. He relished his moments of cuddles. They were still snuggled together when the sharp sound of the door bell broke into their comfortable doze. Arthur moved Merlin’s head from his shoulder. 

 

“Expecting anyone?” he said. Merlin shook his head slightly. After Arthur’s election failure they had been plagued with reporters eager to gloat. Merlin had suggested they go to Doonshee to get away for a while, but Arthur knew Merlin wanted to stay and prepare for the interview so they stayed. It meant a few days under siege in the house and though the media storm did not last long it had made them suspicious of unsolicited callers. 

 

“I’ll go” Merlin said. “That way they won’t get a candid pic of you all rumpled” He grinned. “Not that I don’t appreciate the look mind you” he added as he went to the door.

It was a female voice. 

 

“Are you Mr. Pendragon?” Probably not a reporter then, if she didn’t know what he looked like. Arthur came out into the hallway as Merlin demurred. 

 

“Oh” said the voice. She sounded quite young. “Alfred said he’d help me. He said he’d ring and say I was coming. I took the bus.” She sounded very tired and Arthur came forward to see more. He cursed the fact he had not checked his phone today. He had turned it off after the Council result became public and only checked it sporadically. It wasn’t as if there was anything important he was missing. 

 

The girl at the door was almost certainly not a reporter. Her bleached blonde hair was pulled back in a pony tail so tight it stretched her forehead and her make-up was more appropriate to a nightclub in Soho then a village High street but neither of these precluded her being part of the press. Arthur had once been stalked by a member of the paparazzi in a chicken suit. No, the giveaway was the red faced toddler squirming in the buggy the girl was idly pushing to and fro. 

 

“I’m Pendragon” Arthur said. “You said Alfred sent you?” The girl nodded. 

 

“I’m Kylie” she said. “He said he’d tell you”. She looked bedraggled and defeated and at that moment the toddler began to wail. 

 

“Come in” Arthur said decisively leading Kylie to his study, swept clear of his papers and Law books. 

It turned out that Kylie had gotten bogged down in red tape with both Welfare and Social services. Arthur felt long unused synapses fire up as he thought out solutions and paths to follow. He needed more, and for the first time since they had moved into the house Arthur thought of his old papers. When his constituency office and Westminster office had been closed Arthur had had his files and papers boxed and shipped to Abbotsmead. They had been put in the attic for storage and now Arthur wanted to see them. He called Merlin. 

 

“I’m going to need some papers from the attic” he said when Merlin popped his head through the door on the opposite side of the hallway. 

 

“What papers?” He looked as if he had almost said What attic? and Arthur remembered that when they had been exploring Merlin still had stair-issues. The attic had not been an accessible option and they had had no need to go into it since. He had never mentioned the boxes. Merlin was looking at him. “Arthur, I don’t do stairs, remember?” He said with a grin. “I’ll see to your friend, you do the stairs bit” 

Arthur sighed and made for the stairs. He heard Merlin go in to Kylie. 

“Tea for two then” he heard Merlin say “Or not tea. Babies don’t have tea do they? So ... What DO babies have then?” Arthur gave a secret grin as he ran up the stairs and the voice faded.

 

As he climbed the steep attic staircase, Arthur wondered if Merlin hadn’t quietly explored this part of the house. In the first few weeks he would not have been capable but he had improved so much he could now manage it and Arthur could not imagine his curious Merlin leaving any part of the house unexplored. The attic held two potential bedrooms, a shower room and a store room but Arthur had never bothered to decorate or furnish them. If Merlin had been here he would have plans for them. 

Arthur had not been up here since his return and as he looked at the stacked boxes that made up the life he had loved he was reminded why. He tried to block the memories as he searched. Although he had not packed the boxes he knew what he wanted and where it would be. It was the work of a few minutes to find what he needed. He closed the door on his memories and went back downstairs. 

 

On his return he found Kylie talking awkwardly with Merlin as her baby (Ruthie, he learned later) smeared chocolate biscuit over her face. Arthur got down to business and four phone calls, many filled in forms, three rounds of tea, two plates of biscuits, one bag of jellybabies and a lollipop later, they were done. (Arthur would always wonder where Merlin found the lollipop). A very grateful Kylie wrapped up Ruthie in her buggy and went to catch the bus and Arthur returned to the banked up fire in the sitting room feeling more alive then he had for months. 

The feeling lasted a very short while. Merlin left to take a phone call and Arthur felt his joy dissipate. That was what he could do. He could be decisive, solve problems, get things done – on any scale. He understood fully now the grief Merlin felt at the loss of his job. It wasn’t the position he grieved for, it was the doing.

 

It was being good at doing something and having the opportunity to do it. 

 

Arthur felt a flood of desolation come over him, followed by a deep pity for Merlin. Merlin knew this feeling. Arthur waited for Merlin to return to the room, so that he could admit the pain he felt, show that he understood. Maybe together they could find a way out? 

 

Merlin came back in , phone in hand. His face looked shocked and for a moment Arthur worried until he saw the joy growing in Merlin’s eyes. 

“You won’t believe it” Merlin said. “They’ve offered me a job” 

 

“But the Keyboard skills?” Arthur said automatically. Merlin grinned. 

 

“That still applies but they don’t want me to be a call-taker, they want me in Dispatch – to prioritise cases, sort out appropriate response. They said I had a unique set of skills. They said they would have head hunted me based on my CV. Arthur, they want me! They want me to work. I have a job!” Merlin’s voice shook with joy and he hugged Arthur tightly. 

 

Arthur was happy for him. He knew he was. 

 

But it felt that the happiness was happening to someone else. He could see it, touch it, but he couldn’t feel it. 

 

He hugged Merlin back. 

 

That night Arthur lay awake on their big bed. Merlin was asleep, out of touching distance. Arthur stared into the darkness until it eventually caught him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be up next week - 
> 
>  
> 
> Happy Christmas to all those who have read and supported this little ordinary tale.


	7. Being fine

Getting Merlin back to work was a blur of inactivity for Arthur. Merlin required chauffeuring to and from Medicals, official meetings, training sessions and other varied events that Arthur didn’t bother to catalogue. It was ironic that when he was a child he had wondered what it would be like to have Alfred as a father and now he was following in his footsteps. Or tire prints. Still, it was a reason to get up every morning and that was something. 

Merlin was despondent after the medical, convinced he had not passed and would not be allowed to take up the job. That night he stayed in Arthur’s arms all night and Arthur felt guilty that he was glad of it. When Merlin received final approval from the doctors he was ecstatic. Arthur took him to dinner in the hotel on the High Street: not quite the only restaurant in Abbotsmead but almost. 

 

Arthur had not spent any time out in the village since his defeat in the parish election and he was hyperaware of scrutiny by the locals in the dining room. Most of the patrons were visitors though and he got through the meal without too much stress. Merlin enjoyed it. He kept up a flow of chatter about what he expected from his new job and his ideas of what Arthur could do next. Arthur stabbed his broccoli and murmured suitable replies. 

 

“I think it’s dead” Merlin said and Arthur realised this was the second time he had said it. 

 

“I think you have definitely defeated all the vegetables on your plate” Merlin went on. “Now tell me what’s wrong?” 

Arthur did not know what to say so he pushed the deceased greenery around his plate. When he looked up Merlin’s blue eyes showed concern. Somehow that irritated him even more. 

 

“Why do you always assume something is wrong?” he snapped “I’m fine, you’re fine – leave it” 

Merlin looked a little taken aback but before he could respond the waitress approached them. 

“Is everything All Right” she said - carefully enunciating the words and staring at Arthur’s mangled broccoli with obvious pity. 

“Yes” said Merlin brightly but the waitress (whose name badge read Marlene) was looking at Arthur. 

 

“ Ooo!” she exclaimed “You were at our school. You opened the new gym and made a speech. I didn’t half fancy you! I was ever so upset when the Yell said you was...” her voice trailed off and Arthur wanted to disappear with it. He glanced up and saw her eyes were fixed on the manager at the other side of the room. Arthur was grateful. 

“I could get you the dessert menu” Marlene said mechanically “The special today is cherry surprise which is...”   
“Do you recommend it?” Merlin interrupted. Even in the few words Arthur could hear the amusement in his voice and he relaxed a little. Merlin was not hurt by her words. 

“Not really” Marlene said confidentially. “I mean it’s nice enough but the sticky toffee pudding is to die for and there’s only a few left” 

“We’ll have those” Merlin said and Marlene grinned at him as she left. Arthur braced himself for a deep discussion but Merlin mentioned the latest rugby results he let go of the tension. 

It was not until they were walking back to their house that Arthur felt able to talk about it. He apologised for Merlin having to hear “that”. 

“Hear what?” Merlin said, distracted. 

“The waitress” Arthur clarified. “She was out of order” 

“She’s a kid” said Merlin “And not a great waiter- I hope she keeps her job, the way the manager kept glaring at her” 

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Arthur began but words failed him. As Uther Pendragon’s son he was used to being noticed, to having people aware of him. As a politician he courted it but now he felt the difference between being noticed and notoriety. He didn’t like it. 

“Doesn’t it bother you?” he said again, leaving the ‘it’ unsaid. Merlin sighed. 

“God Yes” Merlin said. “But she wasn’t offensive and I’m not ashamed of being with you” Arthur felt Merlin’s fingers twine around his as they walked. “And Hey! She fancied you and we got pudding out it.” Merlin went on lightly. Arthur wanted to say more: to say that this village, that had almost become home, now felt as lost to him as Westminster, that he would be lost if it were not for the strong hand in his. He said nothing. He was fine. 

 

Merlin was pensive the next morning. Arthur tired a few casual openings but Merlin didn’t follow them. Instead he pursued Arthur.

“You haven’t really talked about the council thing?” Merlin said with feigned casualness and an obvious invitation to Arthur to speak. Arthur took the top off his boiled egg with a single stroke. It wasn’t runny. Again. He liked runny eggs in the morning but no matter how he tried he never got it right. 

“I’m not going to talk about it now” he snapped, rather more forcibly than he intended. Merlin looked abashed and Arthur tried to soften it. 

“Look, Merlin, I’m fine” he said “There’s no need to worry – it knocked me a bit – you know that but I’m fine – I’ll get over it”. 

Merlin looked doubtful. “We could move you know” he said conversationally, as though he hadn’t just suggested shaking their lives. “We could find somewhere else – somewhere you could be more comfortable. It is a possibility” 

For a moment Arthur considered it. But there was nowhere he could be completely anonymous and, as he watched Merlin, toast in hand, sitting in their kitchen; he knew he would never move. Whether the house had wrapped itself around Merlin or whether Merlin simply fitted perfectly into the house he did not know but together they were home. 

 

“No.” he said “We’ll make it work here. I’ll be fine” 

Merlin sighed, finished his toast and went to change. It was his first training day and he was taking no chances of marmalade drips ruining his first impression so he waited until after breakfast to get ready. 

 

When Merlin came back downstairs Arthur stared. 

This man, with the neat hair and the smart suit and tie was not His Merlin. His Merlin wore hoodies and jeans, and latterly, sweat pants.   
His Merlin ran his fingers through his hair so often it stood up.   
This Merlin looked calm and professional, confident and secure. This Merlin did not need him. 

Something may have shown on his face because Merlin, tilting his head to one side gave him a querying look. 

“You’re thinking” Merlin said. “I don’t know what you’re thinking but I don’t think I like it. Stop thinking” 

Arthur was forced into a half smile. That was definitely his Merlin. 

Merlin stepped closer and wrapped his arms around Arthur’s waist. 

“It’s not me, is it, this suit?” Merlin said. “But – I tell you what – when I get home, you can take if off me and see if it’s still me underneath” 

Arthur leaned in for a kiss. He could live with that. 

 

As it turned out, there was no opportunity for disrobing or exploration that night. Merlin returned exhausted and fell asleep as soon as he hit the bed. That became a pattern, and the only time they really had together was when Arthur drove Merlin to and from work. 

 

“It’ll get better” Merlin said “When I’m on shifts I’ll get days off – we can do things” 

 

But it didn’t get better. On his days off, all Merlin wanted to do was sleep and Arthur looking at his pale face knew his partner was pushing the bounds of his still recovering physique. Merlin would never admit it but he found the return to work a strain and Arthur did not want to remind him of his weakness. 

 

Merlin did point out Arthur’s weaknesses. 

One morning, as Arthur struggled to rouse himself to drive Merlin in for his shift at way-too-early-in-the-morning, Merlin stopped him at the doorway. 

“This isn’t fair” he said. “Making you get up at this time” 

Arthur shook himself awake. He was not a morning person – but he could operate in the morning if he had to. 

“It’s fine” he said. “I’m fine. I don’t mind”. That was the truth. More than not minding, he actively liked driving Merlin. It made him feel useful. Arthur didn’t say that. 

 

Merlin was still making unhappy noises about being a burden when Arthur picked him up that evening. 

 

“I could get the bus home” Merlin said. “There is a bus, I looked it up. It would leave you free to get on with things” 

 

Arthur felt a wave of irritation hit him. What ‘things’ did Merlin think he had to do? He was about to snap back an answer when another thought hit him. Did Merlin think he should be doing something? He stayed silent. 

 

“Arthur?” Merlin sounded concerned. 

 

“You’re not getting the bus” Arthur said firmly and started the car. 

 

He knew his chauffeuring days were over and made preparations. 

 

Two days later Merlin dived into the car, damp from the rain and two hours later than he had planned. 

 

“Sorry” he gasped. “Got delayed. I sent a text”. 

 

Arthur had not looked at his phone. He rarely did now. 

 

“It’s fine” he said “No problem” 

 

Merlin sighed. “This is ridiculous” he said “You can’t keep doing this. I will have to get a car of my own. I could drive an automatic now without any strain.” 

 

Arthur had expected this. It was inevitable that Merlin would realise he could do without Arthur’s help and Arthur had done his research. He knew what Merlin would need and used his skills to find the best vehicle for him. When they got home he dug out his laptop and showed Merlin his choice.

 

Merlin was silent for an uncomfortable time, his gaze flicking from Arthur’s face to the glowing screen. Arthur waited 

 

“It’s a tank, Arthur” Merlin said bluntly. 

 

“It’s a four-wheeled drive automatic” Arthur said. “You’ll need an automatic” Merlin involuntarily shrugged his weak arm and Arthur inwardly winced at the unnecessary reminder. 

 

“It’s still a tank” Merlin said. “It’s got three rows of seats” 

 

Arthur felt defensive. “The back one folds down” 

 

“Three rows, Arthur.” Merlin said patiently. “There are two of us. Two. Of. Us. We don’t need three rows of seats. And I’d need a step ladder to get into it. Look at the height of it? I mean..” 

 

Arthur’s patience, which had been growing thin lately, snapped. 

 

“Oh for the love of.... Merlin, stop whinging and grow up!” He saw the look of shocked surprise on Merlin's face but did not stop. 

“You are important now. You will have to travel when they tell everyone to stay off the roads. You will the one doing the telling godamit! When they say; don’t travel unless your journey is necessary, your journey will always be necessary! Stop looking for excuses to be mediocre and accept you need a fucking tank!” 

 

Arthur felt both guilt and a strange form of bitter satisfaction at the look of hurt that swept over Merlin's face. 

 

Merlin turning away for a moment and then he turned back Arthur could not read his expression. 

“You knew that would hurt and you’re being a bastard” Merlin said slowly, “But you’re right about the car. I do need one like this. I just wish... you could have... I’ll be in the garden for a wee bit. I’ll be in for dinner” 

 

Merlin walked out. Arthur knew that in the absence of sea, Merlin would sit and listen to the wind in the trees when he was stressed. The twisted satisfaction Arthur had felt left him and only the guilt remained. He had screwed up again. 

 

He had planned to cook something nice for dinner – his experiments had grown slightly more adventurous and they now owned one cook book. Arthur had learned that Merlin was serious about his own cooking abilities and if Arthur wanted to eat well he had to learn to read a recipe. This day he gave in and pulled out a Marks and Spencer dinner from the freezer. 

 

Merlin was himself when he came back in and he chatted about this and that but Arthur was conscious of a wariness in Merlin’s eyes that made his guilt grow. That night he lay in their bed, waiting for Merlin to return from the shower, and reran the conversation in his mind. The loop kept replaying as Merlin got into his side of the bed and lay there. 

 

Merlin rolled over and scrunched into Arthur’s side. 

 

“You were worried about me” Merlin said softly. Arthur nodded. Merlin went. “You could have said that. You could have said; Merlin I’m worried about you having another crash” Arthur tightened his arms around Merlin’s body and buried his head into Merlin’s shoulder. He hadn’t allowed himself to think that, hadn’t wanted to admit that possibility. 

 

Merlin sighed. “That really wouldn’t have been much better would it?” Arthur did not answer but Merlin did not seem to expect him to. 

 

“We’re bad at words” Merlin sighed again “For all the talking we do, we’re bad at words” 

 

“What do you suggest?” Arthur said thickly, his throat tight with tension. 

 

“You could try kissing me” Merlin said without any flirtatious intonation. “No problem with meaning in kissing” He rolled so that he lay on Arthur's chest. “Tell me” Merlin said “Don’t use words but tell me” Arthur leaned up to lightly touch Merlin’s lips with his own and then, more frantically kissed him deeply, trying to conveying all his love and fear in the moment. Merlin responded in kind and for a time Arthur was able to close a door on his feelings of guilt. 

 

++++++++  
They got the car (tank, Merlin insisted) though they had a moment of dissent when Merlin rejected the sober black model they inspected. 

 

“I suppose it does come in silver” Arthur said doubtfully. 

 

“I’d take it in canary yellow if I could” said Merlin, making Arthur wince. He winced even more when he got the full force of a Merlin gaze. “You were right” Merlin said firmly. “I will need to be able to drive in all circumstances and I would like to be seen” 

 

Arthur wondered at the irony of it. Merlin, who had always stayed in the background actively wanted a car that drew attention, while Arthur, who had once thrived in the limelight now sought the shadows. The thought made his head hurt and he ignored it. 

“It comes in red” Arthur said. Merlin went for that. 

Arthur was satisfied. 

 

After two journeys, Merlin called the car ‘Belinda’. Arthur was incredulous. 

“How can you call THIS Belinda?” he demanded as they stood beside the behemoth in the rear parking space. 

“Look at that...” Merlin paused and waved a finger in the direction of the car. “Front bumper...” he went on. “How could you not see that she’s Belinda” 

Arthur knew he opened and shut his mouth many times in search of an argument but his brain overruled his mouth and none came out. 

 

Finally he said “Remind me why I love you” 

 

Merlin gave a grin that made him look like the boy-man who surfed the beach at Doonshee. 

 

“I think I just did” he laughed. 

Arthur had to agree, that, despite the cheese, it was true, and Merlin’s cruiser was Belinda from then on. 

Merlin took to Belinda very quickly and, as anticipated, Arthur’s role as chauffeur was redundant. He felt it. 

 

There were other changes. 

 

At first, when Merlin got home he would sit with Arthur and chat but after the fourth time the chat turned into irritated bickering, Merlin called a halt. 

 

“I can’t Arthur,” Merlin said as he tried to explain his feelings. “I’d forgotten what it was like dealing with... things... for a full shift. If I did think of it I assumed it would be different being at the other end and not having to see ...things.” He sighed. “But I still see them in my mind and it takes a while to clear my head so...” 

 

Arthur did understand and it became a pattern that after a quick hello, Merlin would go straight to their room, shower, sit, decompress, before coming back down and talking again. Arthur tried not to resent that this was more time he spent alone and then felt angry with himself for feeling that. 

It was a surprise therefore when one evening Merlin came straight to Arthur when he came in. Arthur looked up from the book he wasn’t really reading. 

 

“You okay?” he asked, worried about the change. 

 

“I’m so sorry” Merlin said handing Arthur a piece of paper. It was a roster. Arthur took a few seconds to work it out and then recognised that Merlin would be working 7am to 7pm Christmas Eve, 7am to 3pm Christmas day and 7am to 7pm Boxing Day. He looked at Merlin. 

 

“It’s not a problem” Arthur heard himself say. He hadn’t really thought much about Christmas this year but if he did he had assumed they would be together. He had not factored in shifts – he had not even imagined that this Christmas would be like so many that had gone before. 

 

Merlin was looking as woebegone as only Merlin could. 

 

“I tried” he said “But I’m last in and... well...” he sighed “We have shorter shifts on Christmas Day so that’s ... but...” 

 

Arthur couldn’t bear seeing Merlin so upset. He pulled him into his arms. “It’s fine” Arthur said. “It’s not a problem. We can manage. I’ll be fine” 

 

He would be fine. He knew he would. He always had been. 

++++ 

He was not fine two days later when a beaming Merlin came to him. 

 

“Mum and Dad have said yes to coming over. I hope you don’t mind that I asked them. You said to ask anyone...”

Merlin’s voice trailed off and Arthur knew his face showed his emotions and they were not good. Flashes of old memories hit him: an overheard conversation between his House Master and Matron about ‘who could take Pendragon this year since there were no arrangements made for him’, his father stating bluntly ‘I’ll be away for the rest of the holidays – this is Mrs. Brown, she will stay with you. I checked her references.’ The feelings of the past returned and with them came anger. 

 

“I’m not a child, Merlin” he snapped “I am perfectly capable of being alone. I don’t need babysitting” 

 

“That’s not...” Merlin began but Arthur interrupted him, letting his anger speak. 

 

“Isn’t it? Don’t con me Merlin, ‘Poor Arthur, all alone on Christmas day, let’s fix it so he has someone to pat him on the head and give him sweets.’ That’s what you were thinking and I won’t have it!” His voice rose and he was conscious of almost shouting but he didn’t care. Merlin put out his hand to cover Arthur’s but Arthur shook it off. 

 

“No!” he said. “I won’t be treated like a child! I won’t be babied!” . He pulled away from Merlin and in two strides was out the double door into the garden. He strode across the paved garden towards and car.

 

And stopped. 

 

He was doing it again, running away. Arthur felt a sob building in his throat. He didn’t know what to do or say if he returned but he knew he couldn’t run from Merlin again. He turned and went back into the house, walking slowly as he tried to think through the maelstrom of emotion. 

Merlin was standing by the table, where he had left him. The fact that he had not moved to follow Arthur out, told Arthur that he had not expected him to come back. At the sound of the door closing Merlin looked up. His eyes were red-rimmed. 

 

“You came back” Merlin said quietly. Arthur felt his anger dissipate into guilt. 

 

“I always will” he said hoarsely. “I was acting like a child” he gave an ironic laugh. “Maybe you have a point” 

 

Merlin stepped closer and pulled Arthur into his arms. “I don’t want you to feel that you are being babysat” Merlin said “I want you to feel loved. I always felt loved and wanted at Christmas and I want you to feel that and I can’t do it so I want you to feel it from the people who gave me that gift and they... well you know they love you ...” Merlin bent his head so that his mouth was to Arthur’s ear. “Please, let me do this, for my sake” 

 

Of course Arthur agreed. How could he not? And, had the circumstances been different he would have welcomed the Balinsons. He tried very hard to put away his feelings of inadequacy. 

 

Arrangements for Christmas proceeded. Merlin was quite insistent that they made all the usual preparations. 

 

“Maybe I will be working on the actual day” he said to Arthur, “But Christmas is more than a day and I intend to share all the rest with you.”

 

And so, on Merlin’s first day off in December, Arthur found himself in a Homebase store looking at Christmas decorations. There were boxes of baubles as well as luminous dancing deer, sleeping Santas, musical lights and much more. 

 

“This is tat, Merlin” Arthur said sharply. He had never bought a Christmas decoration in his life. 

 

“Yes, but it’s shiny tat” Merlin said patiently. “That’s what modern Christmas is, but Arthur? look at the weather” (It was raining outside – a grey cold day with horizontal rain and a cruel wind) “We need shiny tat in this weather” Merlin said picking up a box of red baubles and putting it in a trolley he had found somewhere. Arthur sighed at the implication of the trolley. There would be a lot of shopping. 

 

More than an hour later they were in the cold and damp car park with strings of lights, boxes of baubles and bags of tinsel. Arthur hadn’t been able to resist some realistic swags of greenery for the mantelpieces and staircase though both refused the dancing reindeer. 

 

Merlin climbed into Belinda’s driving seat and gave a great sigh. 

 

“Half done” he said as Arthur climbed into his unaccustomed passenger position. “Now for the tree” 

 

Merlin had tracked down a local supplier of trees and Arthur found himself walking up and down between rows of trees behind a very enthusiastic Merlin. For Arthur, Christmas had always been catered – it arrived in a truck and after half a day of tripping over decorators the house was suitably and tastefully festive. None of it had involved walking through mud in the rain. 

 

Despite himself Arthur began to notice the size and shape of the trees, matching them with the house and with the trees he had known. He had just picked out a rather majestic tree, perfectly symmetrical and conical when he realised that he had lost Merlin. After some tramping through the serried ranks of trees Arthur found him. 

 

“This is it” Merlin said exactly as if Arthur had not spent the last five minutes looking for him. “This is our tree” Merlin looked at him, head tilted slightly conveying both hope and confidence in equal measure. 

 

Arthur looked. It definitely was not his tree. 

 

“It’s lopsided” he pointed out helpfully “And a bit sparse” 

 

“Exactly!” Merlin beamed at him as if he had solved a mystery or slain a dragon. “That’s why we must take it” 

 

Arthur gave up being diplomatic “It’s a crooked shrub Merlin! No one would want it!” 

 

Merlin looked at him with a grave look. “That’s the point” he said patiently “If we don’t take it no one will and it won’t get to be a real Christmas tree” His eyes pleaded. Arthur thought of his perfect tree. 

 

“No” he said “We will get a good one” He was adamant. 

 

Which is why he was slightly confused when they drove off sometime later with Merlin’s choice stuck in the back (“I’m so glad you thought of Belinda – she’s perfect for carrying trees”). 

“How did I agree to this?” Arthur asked as they unloaded the even-more-battered tree at the house. 

Merlin smiled. “Magic” he said as he followed Arthur into the house with bags of decorations. 

 

Decorating the tree was a whole day’s work in itself. First there were the logistics of getting it to stay upright – a feat that turned out to be quite impossible leaving Arthur to accept that the tree had a lamentable list to the right. After that came the whole the decorative thing. They found that the strings of lights which seemed so long in the shop looked rather mean on the tree and Arthur had to admit that neither of them had any sense of style when it came to locating prime position for baubles. When at last they had run out of decorations, Arthur stepped back and looked with dissatisfaction at the crooked tree. There were blank spots with no lights, cluttered places with too much tat and all in all it looked nothing like the perfect trees of his childhood. 

“It’s a mess” he said rather more sharply than he intended. Behind him Merlin flopped down on the couch. 

“Mum will fix it” Merlin said with confidence as Arthur tried to pull a string of lights around to fill one of the dark spots. Merlin gave a deep sigh and, turning, Arthur saw him nestle into the cushions. “Our first Christmas tree” Merlin said softly “Our first tree, in our home” He sighed again and Arthur knew he was happy. “It’s Christmas” Merlin said. 

 

“Not for weeks yet” Arthur said practically. Merlin smiled at him. 

 

“Christmas isn’t a date, it’s a feeling” he said “It’s feeling loved and happy and safe and having something shiny to look at” 

 

Arthur looked at the tree. “We need more lights” he said .

 

“I’m not looking at the tree” Merlin said softly. Arthur looked back at him. “You are my Christmas, Arthur” Merlin said seriously. “You make me feel safe and loved and so very happy” 

 

Arthur felt the world still around him. How could he be all that to Merlin if he didn’t know what he was doing? What if he made a mistake? He could so easily hurt Merlin – had hurt Merlin – what if he did it again? He turned back to the tree to hide his fears, but Merlin called him. Almost stumbling he went to the couch and lay with his back to Merlin’s chest, relaxing as Merlin’s arms folded around him. For now, with those arms around him he could feel that it was Christmas. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Christmas Eve   
Text FROM MERLIN TO ARTHUR   
Have they arrived? The weather is awful. Has the plane landed? Are they okay?

Text: FROM ARTHUR TO MERLIN   
The plane has landed, relax 

 

FROM ARTHUR TO MERLIN   
They have A LOT of bags 

 

FROM MERLIN TO ARTHUR   
Tell me my Mum didn’t bring a turkey 

 

FROM ARTHUR TO MERLIN   
And a ham 

 

FROM MERLIN TO ARTHUR   
We will be eating turkey til June 

 

FROM ARTHUR TO MERLIN   
Turkey sandwiches for your lunch forever. I’ll take the ham 

 

FROM MERLIN TO ARTHUR   
I’m turning vegetarian. 

FROM ARTHUR TO MERLIN   
Traitor 

 

FROM MERLIN TO ARTHUR   
Go the long way home. Accident on bridge

FROM ARTHUR TO MERLIN   
I know. Stuck in jam... Your mum is telling stories

(much later) 

 

FROM ARTHUR TO MERLIN   
Home finally. Heard all the tales of your misspent youth. Be afraid. Be very afraid

 

FROM ARTHUR TO MERLIN   
Your Mum is giving the tree very pitying looks. I foresee redecorating in the future. 

 

FROM MERLIN TO ARTHUR   
I told you she would fix it. What tales? 

 

FROM ARTHUR TO MERLIN  
I will enjoy seeing your face when you hear them 

 

FROM ARTHUR TO MERLIN   
I think your Mum may have a thing with the range in the kitchen. Your Dad and I have retreated to the garden when she started making cooing noises. 

 

FROM ARTHUR TO MERLIN   
Your father is in shock. I told him you worked in the garden. He is now sitting on the bench looking as if the sky has fallen. I broke your Dad. 

 

FROM ARTHUR TO MERLIN   
Your Mum is making me peel potatoes. How come we have potatoes that need peeling? 

 

FROM ARTHUR TO MERLIN   
I am besieged by cooking. There are two hams and many pots of veg. The steam is *cough cough* Help! 

 

FROM MERLIN TO ARTHUR  
Belinda and I are on our way to rescue you. Allons’y! 

 

Christmas Day

FROM ARTHUR TO MERLIN   
Your Mum is furious that you left without waking her

 

FROM MERLIN TO ARTHUR  
It was 5.30am. She would have been more grumpy if we had woken her. She’s even worse than you at mornings.

 

FROM ARTHUR TO MERLIN  
I was awake

 

FROM MERLIN TO ARTHUR  
I noticed. 

 

FROM MERLIN TO ARTHUR  
*grin* 

 

FROM ARTHUR TO MERLIN  
*smug smirk* 

 

FROM MERLIN TO ARTHUR  
Stop it! 

 

FROM ARTHUR TO MERLIN  
Yes Doctor

 

FROM ARTHUR TO MERLIN  
I thought we had done all the cooking! Help! 

 

FROM ARTHUR TO MERLIN  
Taking your Dad for a walk. Your Mum is communing with the range again. It is a little disturbing.

 

FROM ARTHUR TO MERLIN  
Your Dad is a fast walker. *sigh* I used to be fit

 

FROM ARTHUR TO MERLIN  
Met Mrs. Glossup from the shop. She gave your father a very suspicious look. I think she suspects I’m cheating on you. 

 

FROM MERLIN TO ARTHUR  
EUUUUGH! 

FROM ARTHUR TO MERLIN  
Back home and the affair in the kitchen has died down to occasional murmuring. The tree is now being dismantled and restored. 

 

FROM ARTHUR TO MERLIN  
Tree is now as symmetrical as it’s going to be. I am slightly relieved that is still has a list. Not just me then. 

 

FROM ARTHUR TO MERLIN  
Elena rang me. Said I was family. Strange but nice

 

FROM MERLIN TO ARTHUR  
I’m not the only one who loves you, Arthur. 

 

FROM MERLIN TO ARTHUR  
On my way at last. Thank you my love for giving me Christmas at home. X 

 

FROM ARTHUR TO MERLIN  
Love you

 

FROM MERLIN TO ARTHUR   
I know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be two chapters, with the Christmas stuff together. But I realised that that would mean that the Christmas chapter would go up on the 3rd of Jan - and I do believe that after the 1st people have had enough of Christmas until June at least. So I compressed Christmas into texts and stuck it all together.   
> That means that instead of having two weeks to get the next chapter ready, I only have one. Eeeek. 
> 
> BTW there is a thread running through this - it is slow though.


	8. Falling

Elena arrived a few weeks into the New Year. She carefully timed her visit to coincide with Merlin’s days off and both Arthur and Merlin planned a whole schedule of entertainments for her. Their plans were shot down at the airport when Elena, complaining about the height of Belinda, the weight of her bag (Arthur carried it) and the general misbehaviour of the weather; announced that she was coming for a rest and wanted nothing more than sleep, food and chat. 

“I’ve been working nonstop” she said “and you are giving me the chance to escape” 

 

Arthur felt a pang of jealousy. He hadn’t felt that sort of exhaustion for many months. 

 

He shared a look with Merlin which basically said ‘time for plan B’ and on the journey back to Abbotsmead he tried to think of a Plan B. 

 

Elena did the usual what-a-great-house when they arrived but pretty soon she was glad to flop into a couch and relax. Eventually though Arthur decided it was time for food, and since going to the best restaurant in the nearby town, which had been Plan A, was now off the menu he made for the kitchen. 

 

“I can’t believe you cook” Elena said lazily as he said where he was going. 

 

“It was that or get shares in a microwave company” Arthur said, gently kicking Merlin’s feet out of the way. “Muggins here has a tendency to make them explode when he cooks” 

“That’s not fair!” Merlin protested, “It was only...” There was a pause and Arthur laughed. 

 

“He’s counting” he said “He blew up so many he can’t remember. Even the one in the bedroom” 

 

Merlin grinned “That” he said emphatically “Was not my fault. I got distracted” 

 

“You have a microwave in the bedroom?” Elena said, fascinated “What for? No don’t tell me, I prefer to imagine” She gave a suggestive chuckle and Arthur could feel himself blushing. He absolutely did not flee to the kitchen. Elena followed.

 

Merlin did not move. Arthur was quite sure that in a few minutes Merlin would be asleep. The Merlin of Doonshee was full of action and on their many meetings they had been totally focused on each other and dozing tended to post activity. But since moving to Abbotsmead, Arthur had realised that Merlin could sleep at the turn of a coin. He had an enviable ability to snuggle on the couch and snooze at any time. Watching Merlin sleep had become a pastime for Arthur. He didn’t have many. 

 

In the kitchen, Arthur stood indecisively. Although he did own a cook book and it was not called ‘Cooking for Dummies’ it might as well have been. He was not convinced he could meet what were, he was sure, Elena’s exacting standards.

 

Elena sat at the table as Arthur explored the fridge in an effort to find something worth cooking. He settled on a stir fry as being quick, flexible and something he could do without too many mistakes. Since Mrs. Balinson’s visit any remaining niggles with the range had being resolved though Arthur had been a little disturbed by the way she trailed her fingers over the range’s shiny bits. Arthur tended to wear oven gloves more than necessary. 

 

“You know your way around the kitchen” Elena remarked. Arthur merely smiled at her as he prepared ingredients. “I never tagged you as a house husband” Elena went on and Arthur stilled. Is that what he was? 

 

“Are you happy, little brother?” Elena said. She rarely used that name for him anymore but her voice showed concern. Arthur took up an onion and started to chop. 

 

“Of course” he said blandly “I have Merlin. I am happy” 

 

Elena interjected. “Yes I know you two are total snugglebunnies but...” her voice trailed off and in the corner of his eye Arthur could see her drawing circles with her finger on the wooden table. She looked up again. “Arthur I saw you on telly last year. You sailed through all those interviews and debates. You are damn good at being all politic-y. Don’t you miss it?” 

 

Arthur tightened his grip on the knife he was using to chop. He wanted her to stop. He wanted her to shut up and stop and stop making him think. He diced the onion into quite unnecessarily small pieces as she spoke. 

 

“That’s over” he said in a tight voice hoping she would get the hint. She didn’t. 

 

“Yeah, I know all about the whole boom thing” Her hands danced as she spoke, expressively showing the end of his career in expansive gestures. “But don’t you want to get involved again? Get out of the house? Do something?” 

 

Arthur kept chopping – the onion turning to paste in his efforts. He remembered the humiliation of standing in the Village hall and hearing the results called out, the jubilation on his opponent’s face and the pity of those who had encouraged him to ‘get involved’. He felt that something died in him that day and he could not reanimate a corpse. 

 

His silence said more than words and Elena became less coherent . 

 

“I’m sorry if I’m... I ... Arthur? Look, I just want ...” she stuttered to a halt. 

 

“I’m fine Elena” he spat out, putting down the knife and turning to her. “I’m fine, we’re fine, everything is fine. Leave it!” 

 

She looked at him seriously. “I see” she said softly. She stood up. “You’re my bro, Sweetie” she said, touching his shoulder gently. “Don’t forget that”. Arthur watched as he walked along the hallway back to the sitting room, then he turned back to his onion mush. He was shaking and blamed the onion on the sting of tears in his eyes. He went back to cooking. 

 

Dinner was a little strained. Merlin was uncharacteristically quiet and Arthur was not really up to much conversation. Elena babbled about her work and Val and how he was still tap- dancing in and out of her life and both Arthur and Merlin managed to say to enough not to have too many awkward silences but it was still strained. 

 

The rest of Elena’s visit reverted to Plan A, which included a cathedral and a perfumery. (Elena was surprisingly impressed with the cathedral and sneezed a lot at the perfumery) 

Arthur drove Elena to the airport. He had no excuse not to – nothing else he was supposed to be doing but he felt tense as he got into the car. He needn’t have been. Elena was bright and cheerful and did not elude to anything that made him uncomfortable – except a few guesses about what they could have used the microwave for which showed that Elena may have grown older but hadn’t really changed. 

 

Only when she was at the departure gate did she pull him into a hug and said “I know you’re not ready yet Sweetie but I’m here for you and some day you will have to start kicking and screaming, because drowning is not an option” 

 

Arthur did not know what she meant. She patted his back and strolled to security looking confident and secure. 

 

Arthur went back to the empty house, made a meal and waited for Merlin to return. That pretty much was his life now. On the days when Merlin was working he wandered from room to room hearing the silence like an all encompassing shadow. Some days he stayed in bed, only rising when it neared the time of Merlin’s return. He found it hard to remember what he filled his days with before. He found it hard to remember before. 

 

The nights were as bad. Although, to Arthur’s silent grief, Merlin did not sleep in his arms, Arthur was aware of his presence – and his absence. Often he would wake in the early hours and go downstairs, greeting Merlin with breakfast when he arrived home tired and dishevelled. Arthur would never mention he had been awake for three hours already. 

 

The days after night shifts, when Merlin slept were better days. Sometimes Arthur would join him and feel safe and comfortable with Merlin beside him. Even when Arthur was awake and around the house he didn’t mind. There was reason for the silence, a presence in the quiet. 

The days when Merlin was off and not sleeping were the best. Arthur felt alive as he bantered with Merlin though he found it harder to think quickly without practice. They didn’t go out much but Arthur was fine with that. He didn’t want to see people. 

 

Merlin came in the kitchen door as usual but instead of heading straight upstairs he sat down by the table. Arthur took the risk and asked about his day. Merlin smiled. 

 

“No one died. It counts as a good day” he said and reaching out for Arthur’s hand he added “You and Elena get to the airport okay?” 

 

“No one died” Arthur said wryly and Merlin laughed. Arthur smiled too and it felt good. 

 

Merlin smiled back. “Can you believe how few people we have had to this house?” Merlin sounded false – as though he was reciting a script. “We’re getting very comfortable with just the two of us. Maybe we need to get out more – see people, mix and mingle” 

 

Arthur was immediately suspicious. Merlin was not a mix and mingle person. He was more of a blend-into-the-background person. Arthur was grateful to every deity that ever existed that he had met Merlin in the social wilderness of Doonshee rather than the rarefied parties of Chelsea. In Chelsea Merlin would have faded. Arthur felt a sudden burst of irritation. 

 

“Elena talked to you” he said flatly. 

 

“She may have” Merlin was non committal. 

Arthur’s irritation flared into anger. “She shouldn’t have. When will you both just accept I’m fine as I am? Did you ever think that I’m just tired of the whole ....” he ran out of words and waved his hands in an all encompassing way. “Maybe I simply need a rest – a time out? Don’t I fucking deserve that?” He stared for a moment at a shocked Merlin then walked out of the kitchen, taking special care not to flounce. 

 

It was a quite a while later when Merlin came to him in the sitting room.

 

“You left your cottage pie behind” Merlin said, carefully setting a steaming plateful on the coffee table. “You’re good at it now – almost as good as my mum. Be a shame to waste it” 

 

Arthur said nothing but made an infinitesimal movement that Merlin correctly read as permission to sit down beside him. 

 

“I’m not going to push” Merlin said “But you would tell me if you weren’t happy, wouldn’t you?” 

 

Arthur settled for a kiss. It said all he was going to say. 

 

+++++++

Merlin seemed to have more energy in the coming weeks. Whereas before he spent his days off relaxing in the house or puttering in the garden now he insisted on their going out for what he called ‘An Adventure’ on at least one day of every break. He did not include their weekly shopping trip to Sainsburys as an adventure. Some were as simple as driving into town for movie and a pizza. Some were different. On one Sunday Merlin handed Arthur a box, which, when opened contained a multi-coloured creation made of bamboo and cloth. 

 

“Is this...?” Arthur looked at Merlin incredulously. 

 

“Yup!” Merlin said happily. 

 

Forty minutes later they were struggling to get their kite to fly. 

 

“I never did this before” Arthur gasped as a breeze finally caught their dazzling wisp and threw it upwards. 

 

“Me neither” said Merlin. “About time for both of us!” 

 

As they watched the kite soar and swoop – and quite often crash - Arthur forgot the shadows that seemed to surround his life and even the journey home, when Merlin insisted on singing ‘Let’s go fly a kite’ all the way didn’t dissipate his mood. 

 

The next adventure was less active. They went to see the Severn bore as it tore upriver. Standing in a field on a cold morning was an unusual adventure but seeing Merlin’s eyes shine as the surfers tackled the wave was worth the early start. 

 

“You’ll do that one day” Arthur said, but Merlin shook his head. 

 

“I need two strong legs to balance on a surf board” he said “I won’t be surfing again” 

 

Arthur must have shown his frustration at his own clumsiness at bringing up such a painful subject because Merlin grabbed his hand and wound himself into Arthur’s embrace – causing scandalised glances from some of the more conservative of the bore watchers. 

 

“Don’t start fretting about it” Merlin said softly “I have come to terms with it. I used to think I couldn’t live without the sea but a brush with the possibility of actually not living tends to focus the mind on what is really important. You’re really important. You and that daft way you have of taking on all the troubles of the world. You and your grumpy morning face and cold feet. You’re it” Merlin stuffed his own cold fingers in to the back pocket of Arthur’s jeans and snuggled closer. “I don’t need the sea” he said, his breath huffing in the frozen air. 

 

Arthur sighed, remembering the longing on Merlin’s face as he saw the surfers ride the wave. He decided he would find a way to give the sea back to Merlin. 

 

It gave him a purpose for those dark days when Merlin was working and there were no adventures. Those days still dragged but he forced himself to have a purpose. 

 

Arthur spent hours at his laptop, researching and making calls and even forced himself to drive and check out potential sites. Eventually he told Merlin that he would arrange the next ‘adventure’.

Arthur drove, taking Belinda and refused to answer Merlin’s eager questions as they travelled. At first they made for the city and Merlin began to made guesses but as they drove along the coast Merlin became quieter. At last Arthur pulled in to a car park by a small pier. 

 

“What are you up to? Merlin asked with a smile in his voice. Arthur shrugged. 

 

“This is my cunning plan to get you back in a wet suit” Arthur said lightly as they were approached by an instructor, obviously expecting them. Merlin followed bemused, as Arthur explained what would happen. 

 

“A quick refresher course in a sports yacht for today” he said “But I think long term you’ll prefer a sailing dinghy – just you and the sea – but you can sit down as you go” he stopped. Merlin was staring at him with an unfathomable expression but before he could speak the instructor was explaining about safety and clothing and the opportunity was lost. 

 

They spent the day on the water and Arthur found he remembered more than he thought from his few times sailing. Merlin was a natural. He had little experience with rigging but he could read the wind and the water like a sprite and the instructor quickly bonded with him. Arthur could see the light in Merlin’s eyes – a look he had not seen for years and was satisfied. 

 

Later, they stood on the shore and watched the sun set across the sea. It wasn’t as wild or as empty as Doonshee but was still beautiful and, with Merlin beside him Arthur could almost see that. 

 

Merlin slid his arm around Arthur’s waist, causing Arthur to glance around nervously. Despite all that they had done to be together Arthur was still not comfortable with being seen being affectionate. Merlin, though was not going anywhere. The arm around him hugged him close. 

“You’re amazing, you know” Merlin said conversationally. “You always want to fix things and you usually do. I told you I could do without the sea, but this...” his free hand gestured across the expanse of water “This is wonderful and you gave it back to me”

 

“I don’t want you having to do without anything” Arthur said gruffly. He felt satisfaction that Merlin was happy and it was good. But Merlin sighed. 

 

“Won’t you believe I feel the same?” Merlin said. “I want you to get back what you lost. Won’t you try to get it back?” 

 

Arthur felt his satisfaction fade away. He wanted to tell Merlin that there were no second chances in politics, no ‘forgive and forget’: you were either in or you were out and he was out and would have to live with that. 

 

“It’ll be dark soon. We’d better get back to the car” he said, disentangling himself and walking towards the car park. 

 

It was just over a week later when Clarissa turned up at his doorstep. Arthur had been ignoring her calls and texts for some time – just as he had others. Clarissa, with her deeply political instincts, was a voice from another world and he had no reason to hurt himself by continuing the acquaintance. If he had know she was coming he would have put her off but she gave no notice. 

 

It was one of his bad days. After the sailing adventure Arthur was once again without a project and the days had started to blur again. He had not dressed – not even got out of bed when the doorbell rang. He would have ignored it but whoever it was leaned on the bell until, muttering, he came to the door. 

 

He made no effort to tidy himself up. He didn’t care if it was a whole bank of paparazzi out there – it didn’t matter any more. So he was numb when he opened the door to Clarissa’s baleful stare. 

 

She took in his disreputable clothes with one searing look and then pushed past him into the house. 

 

“If you think the ‘just out of bed’ look is sexy, you need a mirror.” She said acerbically “And a shower” she added “Shall I wait in here while you take one?” She marched into his study and sat on one of more formal chairs. Arthur followed her.

 

“I’m not taking a shower, Clarissa” he said bluntly, shutting the door. “Why are you here?” 

 

She gave another glare. “I shall simply have to breathe through my mouth then” she snapped. “And I’m here because you are not returning my calls” 

 

“I know” Arthur said. “Take the hint” 

 

“Now that,” Clarissa responded “is beneath you. You can do better. Though looking at you well ... ” She paused. “Frankly I don’t know what you look like because I don’t generally associate with people who wear pyjamas at 3.30 in the afternoon” 

“You should get out more. See the masses” Arthur snapped. 

 

Clarissa gave him a cold smile “That’s more like it” she said.

 

“What do you want Clarissa?” Arthur said, losing patience. 

 

“I want you Arthur” Clarissa replied. “Obviously not physically, since you are rather whiffy and definitely need a shave but I want Arthur Pendragon back in the game. I gave you a year to get that young man of yours back on his feet and from what I can tell he is eminently capable now. It’s time for you”

 

“No second chances Clarissa” Arthur said with force. 

 

“Oh don’t be an idiot” she responded “Politics is all chance – every election, every headline, every time the wind blows in the wrong direction. Politics is gambling and we always take and make and steal chances” 

 

Arthur gave a bitter laugh. “Don’t you read the Yell? I couldn’t even get elected dog catcher!” 

 

Clarissa gave him a measured look. “Is that what this is about? That ridiculous Parish vote last year?” She gave a derisive snort “You deserved to lose. You didn’t do your homework – didn’t put in any effort or give your electorate respect. I taught you better than that. Did you know that of the electorate of 243, seventy six were related to your opponent? And that 102 of the electorate were effectively disenfranchised because the vote was held on a Wednesday afternoon and they commute?” She waved her hand dismissively. “You deserve to be ashamed of yourself.” 

 

Clarissa stood up. 

 

“I heard you were out of sorts but I hadn’t realised it was this bad” She gestured at his scruffy appearance and gave a brief sigh. “I can give you a month. Get yourself together – get a haircut, take up a hobby, take a dog for a walk – be seen. I need Arthur Pendragon” 

 

“He’s gone” Arthur said very quietly. She stood for a moment at the door. 

 

“Get him back” she said. “One month” 

 

The sound of the front door closing reverberated in Arthur’s head. He had no idea what Clarissa had planned but he knew he could not do it. 

 

But she believed it. 

 

Conflicting ideas chased each other through the empty corridors of his mind, hope and despair circling. He didn’t notice he had curled up in a ball on the couch, and he was still there when Merlin came in hours later. He could hear Merlin calling, his voice getting increasingly anxious as there was no response.   
“Here” he called hoarsely only then realising that at some stage he had been crying. 

 

“Arthur?” Merlin was kneeling before him “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” 

 

Arthur looked at the expensive rug his interior designer had chosen in his other life. 

 

“I’m not fine” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the outline, this chapter was supposed to be very angst-y with Arthur's slow sliding into depression culminating with Clarissa's ultimatum. But it was very hard to write and my rule is: if it's hard to write it's because it didn't happen and I realised that this Merlin was fighting back. Hence the kites... 
> 
> Totally out of buffer now and RL is about to bite. But I keep writing... in the crevices of my life.. .


	9. Building Foundations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lateness and the quality. Real life, in the guise of real work has bitten badly and though I may be spending the next few weeks in front of a computer screen, it won't be doing want I want. Oh to be a real writer who can write all day and not in snatches of stolen minutes. 
> 
> This chapter is the result of such stolen minutes - it was ready yesterday but when I went to edit it, I completely rewrote chunks, which means that most of it has not been edited and some of the chunks may have rough edges. It is what happened but not necessarily told well. But I didn't want to miss my unwritten deadline without warning. 
> 
> But, as a result of the crazy that is work I can pretty much guarantee that the next chapter will be delayed - probably for two weeks. But it will appear. I always finish what I start.

********

Merlin walked along a prosperous street in the neighbouring town. The tall elegant houses seemed to frown at him as he walked and he felt out of place. Arthur would feel at home here, he thought, but then Arthur would be at home here. Merlin felt a brief spasm of guilt but he quickly overcame. Checking out a discreet house number he climbed the smooth stone steps and rang the bell. 

 

He didn’t know if he was expecting a butler but he was surprised to see Clarissa Williams open her own front door. She nodded to him. 

 

“You’re very punctual, I like that in a man – it is a rare accomplishment” She beckoned for him to come and he followed her into a room which definitely had all the qualifications to be called a Drawing Room. 

 

“Your text didn’t say why you wanted to meet but I assume it is about Arthur and my plans for him” Clarissa gestured to a silk covered chair and Merlin took it a permission to sit. He felt as if he was visiting the Queen, though the Queen would be less intimidating as he had seen pictures of her in a headscarf and wellies and thought her normal, whereas Arthur insisted that even in wellies Clarissa looked regal. Merlin remembered why he was here and strengthened his resolve. Before he could speak Clarissa stole the silence. 

 

“I do hope he has recovered. I gathered he was ill” 

 

Merlin looked at her. “He’s ...been finding things hard lately” he said succinctly. 

 

“I’m not surprised” Clarissa said sharply. “He’s been idle for too long. A man like that needs to be active” 

*****

Merlin wanted to protest but he knew it was true. He had seen Arthur slowly wither in the comfortable surroundings of Abbotsmead. Despite all Merlin’s coaxing, Arthur had closed down his world, bit by bit. It had taken Elena’s visit to force Merlin to see how far Arthur had sunk . Elena had not pulled her punches. 

 

“Wake up, Merlin! That is not the same man we knew in Doonshee” she spat out the words. 

 

“Neither am I” said Merlin. 

 

“Jesus!, Merlin, Arthur was nearly the bloody Prime Minister of the UK. Now he’s making dinner as the highlight of his day. Cop on! ” 

 

But when Merlin had tackled Arthur the explanation that he was tired; that he needed a break from the strain he had been under was so plausible that Merlin was tempted to accepted. He had said as much to Elena when she phoned to check up on him. Again she was firm. 

 

“Do you really think he’s fine” she said sadly “Or do you want to believe he’s fine because if he’s not fine then you’ll have to do something?” 

 

Elena’s words made Merlin do something. Despite his aching muscles and exhausted mind which craved nothing more than curling up on his days off, he began to insist on going out. And it seemed to work. Arthur smiled on those days – even laughed, and Merlin felt such joy when he saw Arthur chase a grassy hill, desperate to keep his kite aloft. On those days Merlin could convince himself all was well. But on the nights when he returned home to find Arthur already in bed, unshaven, un-showered and giving the impression he had not been dressed at all – on those days Merlin knew the problem had not gone away. 

***

When he had found Arthur, shivering in the darkened room after Clarissa’s visit, the words “I’m not fine” made Merlin uncertain if he wanted to cry or cheer. The room was dark and Arthur looked as if he had not moved for hours. He was wearing sleep clothes and with his unshaven jaw and his over-long hair he looked disreputable. Merlin turned on a light and sat down heavily beside Arthur. Arthur looked blankly at him and Merlin missed the gleam of sardonic humour that used to be the main expression of those eyes. He held Arthur’s hand between his own. 

 

“I know love” he said “I know” Arthur gripped his hand. Merlin went on, speaking softly “Two weeks ago you even refused point blank to go see England play Six Nations rugby at Twickenham. Pretty obvious you’re not fine” 

 

Arthur spoke, his voice hoarse. “It was London. I couldn’t bear to ... not London. I can’t bear not belonging...” his voice trailed off. Merlin wanted to understand so that he could give comfort but he was struggling. 

 

“You belong with me” he said and immediately knew it was the wrong thing to say. The spark that had opened up in Arthur was extinguished and tension radiated from his body. 

 

“Yes, of course, yes, I know... you too, with me” Arthur said stiffly as he began to get to his feet. Merlin tried to think what he had done to provoke this, pulling Arthur down as he did so. 

 

“No” he said “You don’t run and hide this time. Not until you are properly dressed at any rate” A shadow of a smile flitted across Arthur’s face before it resumed its blank expression. 

 

But he did sit down. 

 

Merlin sighed. “I want you to be happy” he said .

 

“I don’t know how to be happy” Arthur replied and Merlin’s heart broke a little. He held Arthur’s hand in his own again. 

 

“Happily ever after doesn’t give details does it?” Merlin said. “All this,” he gestured around the room “It’s not what you thought, is it?” 

 

Arthur tensed again. 

 

“I..” Arthur paused “I love you” he said “And this is what I wanted. And I have no right not to be happy and ...” He stopped. Merlin couldn’t see Arthur’s face but he felt a sudden wave of relief as he finally figured something out. He grasped Arthur’s hand firmly. 

 

“I know you love me” Merlin said “And I know was a bit slow getting that idea but I do know it now and I know we do belong together but, Arthur...” he turned so he could see Arthur’s face. “It’s okay that that’s not enough – I mean I don’t want you getting a toyboy mind you cos if you do I’ll hunt you down, but I ... well, you’re Arthur Pendragon. I saw you demolish Jeremy Paxman on TV. If you were in the olden days you’d be slaying monsters, and I know no matter how much you love me you need to be doing more. And that’s okay... I want you to be doing more. And I know I leaned on you all the time when I was sick - because you are so dammed strong and you always had the answers and I will always need you but it’s okay for you to need to do more now and ....” He realised he was running on and running out of air so he stopped. 

 

Arthur stared at him, then looked away. 

 

“There is nothing for me to do” he said without inflexion. 

 

“Fuck that!” Merlin said instinctively “That’s the depression talking” and suddenly the elephant in the room trumpeted. He went silent. Arthur said nothing. 

 

“Clarissa was here” Arthur said finally. “She thinks I’m broken” 

 

“Everyone is” Merlin responded “You should know that. You put me back to together more than once” Arthur said nothing. “What did Clarissa want?” Merlin asked. 

 

“I don’t know” Arthur sounded sad “She looked at me and I disgusted her. She left” 

 

Merlin debated responses and decided on honesty. 

 

“Well, love, you have looked better” He wrapped his arm around Arthur. “You and me, we’ll get through this. We will.” He said 

 

When Arthur had settled a little Merlin had led him by the hand to the kitchen where he made a meal – beans on toast because it was not the time to be adventurous. As Arthur automatically murmured, “Mind the microwave” Merlin thought his heart would burst with relief. He didn’t quite feed Arthur – that would be messy with beans – but he coaxed and cajoled until he was sure that enough protein had gone down. Then he gently shoved Arthur upstairs and into the bathroom. 

 

“Not being insulting or anything, love, but you stick” Merlin said firmly as he undressed Arthur and propelled him into the shower. Merlin remembered how, when he was crippled with leg and arm and his own spirit was desolate, Arthur had done this for him. Stripping quickly he followed and proceeded to wash his partner, tenderly rubbing and rinsing soap and shampoo and softly whispering endearments as he used his hands to worship Arthur’s body. He did not seek sex – that was not what was needed this time. 

 

When Arthur was clean and relaxed Merlin took him out, and having wrapped Arthur in a clean robe, proceeded to shave the two day old stubble decorating Arthur’s face. That Arthur had been in the habit of not shaving had been a red flag to Merlin – seeing his slightly vain Arthur ( and he was, much though he denied it) sporting stubble that was more homeless than designer was more than a worry. Now he took the chance to rectify the look. 

 

With Arthur shaved, Merlin steered him into bed. As he lay down Arthur reaching a held Merlin’s had. “Stay with me” he said pleadingly. 

 

“I always do” Merlin said uncomprehendingly But Arthur’s grip tightened. 

“I mean here” Arthur said quietly, his eyes indicating the space beside him. Merlin felt his heart break. He climbed in beside Arthur, cuddling close. 

 

“Won’t my ...” he twisted and wriggled to express meaning “Won’t it wake you?” 

 

“I don’t sleep when you are not here” Arthur’s voice was very quiet but Merlin felt the tide of misunderstanding between them wash over him. There was a lot of work to do to fix it. 

 

The next morning started the work. Merlin made breakfast and as Arthur ate Merlin made plans. 

“The first thing we need to do is see a doctor” he began. 

 

“No” said Arthur, his mouth full of buttery toast soldiers dripping with egg, (Merlin had got the timing exactly right and the egg was perfectly runny. Merlin was proud of his timing that he had finally learned to boil an egg). 

Merlin stopped speaking. 

 

“What?” he said, completely Belfast in tone. 

 

“No doctors” Arthur said flatly.  
Merlin groaned silently. This would be difficult. 

“If you had a cold you’d go to the doctor” he said, adopting a reasonable tone. 

 

“I don’t have a cold” 

 

“No, you’re depressed” 

 

“And I’ll get over it” 

 

“It’s not that easy. There are so many things to consider ” Merlin was really trying hard to keep his temper in check. Arthur was not. 

 

“Are you saying I’m crazy?” Arthur sounded fierce, ready for a row. 

 

“I’m saying you’re depressed and stop being an idiot!” 

 

“So now I’m an idiot!” 

Merlin took a deep breath and willed his voice to remain calm. This was getting them nowhere and he knew Arthur well enough not to have a heated argument with him except over which Doctor Who was best. That seemed a bit ironic at this point. 

 

He switched tactics and again tried honesty. “I” he said firmly. “I don’t know what to do and I need help ” 

 

“I’m not a problem to be fixed, Merlin” Arthur said scornfully. He had stopped eating. 

 

“No” Merlin did his best to remain calm but he could hear the accent getting stronger “You’re the one who fixes problems – and that’s the thing – you fix problems for people because you know who to ask – well now we need to ask and...” 

 

“And have my mental health all over the Yell?” Arthur interposed angrily. 

 

“That wouldn’t happen!” Merlin said quickly snapping his mouth shut before he said anything about paranoia. Arthur was upset enough. 

 

Arthur was ranting. “You think there wouldn’t be an underpaid receptionist somewhere with a huge mortgage and a massive credit card bill who wouldn’t think it worthwhile contacting the gutter press? I may be drowning in obscurity but Aredin would still love to have a ‘Looney Dragon’ headline. No. Doctors” 

 

Merlin argued in vain and as he saw Arthur become more and more agitated he gave in. He would have to look for help elsewhere. 

 

Which he why he was sitting uncomfortably in Clarissa’s grand drawing room feeling nervous. Arthur had said more about Clarissa’s visit over the Beans on toast (and Merlin wondered if that was to be the food accompaniment for all their emotional conversations). Merlin had suggested that Arthur should contact her to find out more about what she was offering. As Arthur’s reluctance was obvious, Merlin volunteered to go and one text conversation and a drive later he was here. 

 

“He’s been idle for too long. A man like that needs to be active” 

 

Merlin heard Clarissa’s words through his own reflections. 

 

“What do you want from him?” he asked bluntly. Clarissa smiled and told him. 

 

“I want him to contest the next election here” 

 

“I don’t know much about politics, but Independents usually lose” Merlin was silent for a moment. “I don’t think he could take losing” he said quietly. 

 

“He won’t be Independent. He will be the party candidate” Clarissa sounded supremely confident and Merlin why she never ran herself. But he had other doubts. 

 

“They threw him out” he said “He never let on how that hurt him but it did. They threw him out for loving me” 

 

Clarissa sighed. “I took my eye off the ball – it won’t happen again. And the boy could have had a little more trust – a little more finesse. He went national too quickly, didn’t notice the machinations close to home. The ones with the knives had them ready long before he gave them an excuse to use them.” She smiled coldly. “But I’m back now and they will know it” She paused. “I can’t guarantee success; that will be at the mercy of the political winds when the General Election is called next year. What I can guarantee is that by the time of the selection meeting next month, I will control the constituency party again. I want Arthur Pendragon sitting in the waiting room, wearing a Savile Row suit and acting as prim as Queen Victoria. If he is, if he is back to himself, then he will be chosen to represent the party in the next election. The rest is up to him and to national trends” 

 

Merlin wanted to argue at the uncertainty, but he knew that Arthur (when he was himself as Clarissa put it) would accept the challenge. 

 

“Your task” Clarissa went on “Is to get him into that waiting room” 

 

“If he wants to be there” Merlin insisted. 

 

“He needs to get back into the race. Politics is in his soul. Mind you, he may not ‘Want’ it when you put it to him – men can be so stubborn.” 

 

She stood up and walked to the window. “I remember the first defeat George had. He withdrew into himself for six weeks. Only came out for Ascot. And George was never the natural politician Arthur is” She sighed. “Do whatever you have to do to get him there” she said, then hesitating, went on “Just ... be careful. No paper trail. People can get over the gay thing, but one whiff of anything to do with therapy or anything to do with mental health and he is done for. The papers would be terribly kind and supportive and write loads of articles about how brave he is but ordinary people would never vote for him again.” She paused again. “I do like the boy but you must tell me if there is going to be any issues – I cannot afford to back a certain loser” 

Merlin felt his anger grow. 

 

“You should be proud to support him” he snapped “He’s worth ten of any of your Westminster crowd any day!” He felt he was channelling Kenny as he spoke and did not notice his hands balling into fists as he spoke. 

 

“He is indeed!” Clarissa sounded amused rather than annoyed. “Oh I do like you, you are so... Real” she went on “Don’t change, m’dear – you’ll be good for him”  
Her voice darkened. “ It will be hard on him but he needs to climb out on his own in private if he wants a future” 

 

“He’s not alone” Merlin said automatically.

 

“No,” Clarissa said “He’s not” She walked to the long sash windows and looked out “He’s lucky” She turned back to Merlin. “Tell him what I said. Tell him I expect him” 

 

“But I’m sure you have a plan B” Merlin couldn’t help saying as he stood. 

 

Clarissa laughed “Oh Darling, you have no idea how bad plan B would be” she said. 

 

As he drove back Merlin pondered on the stubbornness of politicians. He knew he could not get Arthur to accept medical advice but he was lost when it came to knowing what to do to help. He remembered his own dark days when, trapped in a hospital bed he felt his life closing around him but apart from Arthur’s hand holding his through the dark he could not remember how he found the light. 

 

Merlin decided he could not do this alone. Pulling into a farm gateway he quickly sent two texts and to his surprise got responses. Two phone calls later he was back on the road to Abbotsmead. 

 

Arthur met him in the hallway. 

 

“I’m packing for us” Merlin said. “We’re going to London” Arthur made some move to argue but Merlin raised his hand and shook his head. 

 

“No” He said “You don’t get a choice. I’m invoking the medical proxy clause” 

 

“We don’t have one” Arthur said “And I am not seeing a doctor” 

 

“You’re seeing Gwen” Merlin said. “She’s a doctor. Ok, an emergency doctor but still, she knows stuff. And we’re staying with Calum. He said and I quote ‘if you don’t mind me and Lydia shagging like bunnies next door you’re grand. I suggest we use ear plugs or give them a show of our own” 

Arthur actually blushed and Merlin felt a little glow of happiness to see it. He tucked his arms around Arthur’s waist. 

 

“Humour me” he said “I need to know that you’re okay” 

 

“I’m f...”Arthur began then stopped. “I will be” he said as he leaned in for a kiss. 

 

One hour later they were on the road to London – in the Alfa, despite Merlin’s efforts. 

 

“It’s a long drive” he said, “Belinda is good for that” 

 

“But it’s London” Arthur said “LONDON. We’ll be seen” After that Merlin only put up a token argument. It was the first time in ages he had seen a glimpse of Arthur’s vanity and he loved it. 

 

Later that night, curled up together in Calum’s spare room, Arthur remarked: 

 

“You do know that hearing Calum having sex in the next room could completely push me over the edge of sanity?” 

 

Merlin laughed and snuggled closer. 

“That’s okay” he said. “I’ll be beside you”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur's refusal of medical help is based on his own particular situation but is unwise. Anyone with any symptoms of depression should not suffer in silence - go to a doctor -. There are many options for treatment but it should not be left to grow.


	10. The Problem is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very late - work is eating my life and will continue to do so for a few more weeks. I cannot promise a weekly schedule of updates for the next few weeks but there will be updates. 
> 
> I know this story does not have exciting moments - just the story of two people learning to live but I will keep it going.

On the journey to London Merlin had filled Arthur in on Clarissa’s plans. 

“Is it feasible? ” he asked. 

 

Arthur knew it was. Clarissa knew the local political climate. If she thought it was possible then it was. But he knew he would not be ready to face a selection meeting in one month. He didn’t say that to Merlin.

 

The next morning they left the car at Calum’s place and took public transport to Gwen. Gwen had moved to an area that was not so much up-and-coming as just-about-found-the ladder-and contemplating-the-first-step and Arthur would not risk the Alfa. Merlin didn’t mind. He was still half in love with London and a tour on buses and trains did not bother him. Even the slight drizzle did not faze him, though Arthur complained all the way. Merlin liked that. It was a sign of life. 

 

The visit to Gwen was not very successful. They had barely entered her London SE apartment (once a humble flat but now slightly gentrified) when it began to go pear-shaped. 

 

Gwen welcomed them, but she looked tired and strained. Her apartment, neat and simple reminded them that she and Gui still had not worked out their living arrangements. He was based in Paris and she still worked in London – having a good job in St. Thomas’. 

 

Arthur sat on a park bench, staring at the ducks’ tails floating across the water of a rather incongruous lake. The heads-down-tail-up approach of the ducks was comical but Arthur did not feel like laughing. He took out his phone and stared at the screen, ready to text. Before he could, a familiar figure sat down beside him.

 

“Did your spidey senses tell you where to find me?” he said to Merlin 

 

“Yep” said Merlin “That and the fact that I saw you from Gwen’s window” 

 

There was silence. 

 

“I ran away again” Arthur said 

 

“I’d like to think of it as a brisk strole” Merlin said lightly, then seeing Arthur’s expression added, “Yes, Yes you did” 

 

“I’m good at running away” Arthur commented, bitterly. 

 

“You are” Merlin said impassively. “It’s your superpower. I don’t know, couldn’t you be good at something more fun, like... making paper airplanes that fly. I could never get my planes to fly. They always nose dived at my feet” Merlin stopped and watched two ducks get into a squabble over a piece of bread. 

 

“I can make good paper airplanes” Arthur said. 

 

“I knew it!” Merlin gave a half laugh “You are good at everything” 

 

“Except being happy” 

 

At Arthur’s words Merlin’s hand reached over but stopped abruptly. Arthur looked up. 

 

“I don’t know this neighbourhood” Merlin said softly “Rather not be a statistic” 

 

Arthur felt a shudder run through his body. He said nothing. They watched the ducks in their head-down-tail-up search for food and sat stiffly on the park bench, the distance between them imaginary. 

 

“I wasn’t running from you” Arthur said suddenly. “Not this time. I couldn’t face...” he ran his hands through his hair. “I hate feeling like this” 

 

“Yeah” said Merlin softly “You don’t have to talk to Gwen. I rushed you. I can wait if you can”. There was a question in the statement but Arthur ignored it. He didn’t know what he wanted. Just then Merlin’s phone chimed. “That will be Gwen, wondering if we are coming back. Are we coming back?” Merlin asked. 

 

“I suppose so” Arthur said. The ducks had moved off to the other side of the lake. Arthur pointed at them. “The show is over” he said. He felt listless, as if nothing mattered. Merlin stood up and Arthur followed. They paused at pedestrian lights to cross the road.

 

“Ah, sod it!” Merlin eclamied and grabbed Arthur’s hand. Arthur looked at him in surprise. 

 

Merlin shrugged and said, “It’s worth the risk”, and Arthur felt the beginnings of a smile at the corner of his mouth. Maybe it was at that. 

 

Gwen prepared a meal for them but conversation was awkward with so many topics off the table. They did not speak of Guillaume’s absence, Arthur’s depression and Merlin’s injuries, which limited the conversation to the weather and old memories. Even these had issues and the visit would have sagged into one of those sad occasions when old friends realise they have lost their connection when Merlin and Gwen realised they were on either ends of the same chain in work terms. Within minutes they were exchanging work stories, swapping tales of barely avoided disasters and occasional stupidity. 

 

Arthur sat back with his glass of wine and watched them talk. Gwen spoke with animation, her hands flying with her words, her eyes shining. Arthur, drowsy and mellowed by wine wondered what his life would have been like if he had had a second date with Gwen at Doonshee. What if he had fallen in love with her and not Merlin in that seminal summer? He would not have to fear holding her hand in an unfamiliar park. His father would have had issues, but would have gotten over it. Gwen would have been welcome in the Chelsea house; there would have been no hiding, no pretending. She was as kind, as practical as Merlin; she would have grounded him just as well, given him an insight into the world he didn’t know just as clearly. With her at his side he would still be a minister, maybe Prime Minister... 

 

Arthur’s breath caught as he thought of all he could have done, could have been. At the sound, Merlin glanced around and looked at Arthur. His look was familiar – a hint of amusement, a touch of anxiety, a dollop of concern, all wrapped up with love. With a sense of shock Arthur realised that in his fantasy with Gwen, this look would never be directed at him. He smiled back at Merlin and knew that even if life with Merlin was not enough for his active mind, life without him was impossible. 

 

Merlin smiled back and Arthur relaxed. He seemed to be seeing Merlin with new eyes. He focused on Merlin’s arm, resting on the arm of the chair. The room was warm and Merlin had rolled up his sleeves so that his wrists and forearm gleamed whitely in the light. Merlin’s wrist bones protruded starkly. Though he had regained weight since the crash he would never be anything other than skinny but Arthur knew the strength in those deceptively thin wrists. Dark hairs, highlighted by the glow of the lamps, covered Merlin’s forearms and Arthur imagined what those arms could do. Without volition and feeling like a teenager, Arthur was aroused by sight and thought. He sank back into the cushions, clutching his wine glass like a shield and tried to think of anything else. At the same time another thought, unprovoked, entered his head. He could not remember the last time this had happened. Was it... was it before Merlin’s crash, before the world ended? Calculation helped his predicament but he still insisted on a taxi back to Calum’s apartment. Waiting at a bus stop was not an option. 

 

Calum had given them the key, remarking that he would be out late and Arthur took advantage of that, sliding his hand under Merlin’s shirt as soon as they door was shut. 

 

“That tickles” smiled Merlin swatting Arthur’s hand away with ineffectual swipes. 

 

“I know” Arthur said, moving his hand lower, beneath the waistband of Merlin’s jeans. Merlin’s eyes shone. 

“You want....?” he said with a question in his voice. 

 

“Always” Arthur said, pretending that this was not the first time in months he had initiated anything to do with sex. 

 

Merlin gave a delighted laugh and Arthur could feel Merlin’s swelling interest beneath his exploring fingers. 

 

“We have to move” Merlin said breathlessly. “Calum would be traumatised if he came in and tripped over us in his hallway” 

 

“I don’t care” Arthur said but he allowed himself to be dragged towards their bedroom. They pushed through the door and with a muffled shout Merlin toppled over. 

 

“Dammit Arthur, you left your suitcase in the middle of the room” Merlin said from the floor, where he lay like a stranded Merman. Arthur stared anxiously but Merlin was laughing and Arthur decided that it would be a shame to waste the opportunity. He dived down, pulling at Merlin’s clothes revealing his pale skin.

 

“Nooooo, Not happening” Merlin laughed. “I have had my fill of carpet burn. Pull me up!” He raised his arms to Arthur, his head to one side and his eyes twinkling. “Come on” he said “Lift me” 

 

Merlin usually hated being manhandled but Arthur was not going to lose this chance. He pulled Merlin up and into a fireman’s lift and, crossing the small room he unceremoniously dumped him on Calum’s rather cheap spare bed. 

 

“This better?” Arthur said and Merlin reached for him, still laughing. 

 

“Definitely” Merlin said. And it was. 

 

Later Arthur lay awake on the rumpled sheets. Merlin slept, sprawled over him like a rather bony blanket, his thin hands, so creative and deceptively strong, now still, as they curled around Arthur’s own. Arthur tried to hold on to the feeling of joy he felt as he watched Merlin come from his actions; watched the expressions flit over Merlin’s face like changing seasons, filled with the knowledge that he had made those emotions possible, but despite his efforts the joy faded. As inevitably as dusk settles over the corners of a day, hiding the light, the shadows came back. 

 

How could he get better if he could not, would not, talk with a friend? How could Merlin continue to be patient with his endless slump if there was no hope of an end? Arthur looked at himself and felt that he did not have a problem, he was the problem and there was no solution. 

 

Merlin gave a soft ‘Harrumph’ and turned over into a tangle of arms and legs, one elbow firmly jammed into Arthur’s midriff. Arthur did not move. The sharp ache was a reminder of good things. It not help him sleep.

 

As he lay he heard the door to the flat open and Calum’s heavy footsteps make their way to the kitchen. On impulse Arthur decided to give up on sleep and go join him. Careful not to wake the gently snuffling Merlin Arthur disengaged himself and got out of bed. He decided to be kind and not scandalise Calum, so he dressed – after a fashion and padded into the Kitchen 

 

Calum nodded at him and continued to putter around.

 

“Can’t sleep?” he said, opening the fridge. Arthur shook his head and sat on a stool by the breakfast bar. 

 

“Good night?” Arthur asked. 

 

Calum sighed. “The problem with going out for drinks when you have work the next day is the drink food balance. I just had one pint – enough to make me hungry but not enough to make me drunk enough to get curry chips at the chipper. So here I am at ass o’clock frying rashers for a sandwich.” Calum took the packet of bacon and laid pieces on the frying pan. “Want some?” he added 

 

For the first time in months the prospect of food was actually appealing and Arthur nodded. 

 

“Grand” said Calum, “Just don’t go expecting a cooked breakfast, cos you’re eating it now” 

 

Once the pan was sizzling Calum turned to Arthur. “So are you going to tell me why you are here?” he said mildly. Arthur was caught off guard. 

“What do you mean?” he said .

 

Calum gave him a pointed look. “For the best part of a year you and Merlin have been hiding out in a English village and practically ignoring the rest of the world and then out of nowhere I get a text from Mez, using the Doonshee emergency code looking for place to stay. So what’s up?” 

 

The bacon sizzled and Calum turned it as Arthur puzzled over what he had said. 

 

“What’s the Doonshee code?” he asked. 

 

“Oh weren’t you in on it?” Calum said, still flicking bacon. “Course you didn’t work for the queen bitch so you didn’t need it. We worked out the Bosco code if we absolutely needed help no questions asked. You know, ‘take a class for me or I’ll kill someone’ sort of thing. It got me out of some awkward situations but I don’t remember Mez ever using it. Until this week” 

Calum passed Arthur a knife, a loaf of bread and a pound of butter but said nothing. 

 

Arthur began buttering, a wave of embarrassment washing over him.

 

“He shouldn’t have” he said in a low voice. 

 

Calum put the bacon on a plate and sat down. He still said nothing. 

 

“I may have been a little stressed” Arthur said. 

 

“Felt bored out of your skull – felt that the walls were closing in but there was no reason to go out and that no matter what you did you’d lose?” Calum said casually. Arthur gave him a sharp look. “What?” Calum said “I know what it’s like. When I came back from Australia and there was nothing for me... fuck... it was the shitiest time of my life” 

 

Despite himself, Arthur asked “How did you get out of it?” 

Calum took a bite of the bacon sandwich and chewed reflectively. “I can tell you how not to” he said “I got shitfaced most nights for about six months. Lousy for me and for my bank balance but I thought I could party my way out of feeling bad. Didn’t work” He looked at his sandwich. “I should have got brown sauce for this” he said. “A bacon sammige needs brown sauce” 

 

Arthur laughed. “You’re in an Up and Coming Area” he said. “Brown sauce would probably spontaneously combust if you brought it in” 

 

“Fuck off you” Calum said mildly “You with your fancy Chelsea preserves – I saw you at Doonshee. Your Bacon butties were never without sauce. We’ll make a commoner of you yet” 

 

Arthur smiled and chewed his own sandwich, conscious of the melted butter dripping on his chin. 

“The feeling.” He said as he swallowed, “The bad feeling ... you’re better now? It’s gone?” 

 

Calum looked a little sad. “Yeah” he said “Mostly, yeah. I love London, but I miss Dublin like an ache but yeah, things got better when I got the job. The best cure for the unemployment blues is getting a job. I was bloody lucky to get this one, just... it’s a pity it wasn’t at home. But yeah, I’m better” 

 

He looked over at Arthur. “You need to get a job Arthur, or you’re going be screwed up. You can’t stand being idle; Jaysus, even in Doonshee you were always looking for things to do” 

 

“It’s not that easy” Arthur said defensively “And Merlin needed time..” 

 

Calum interrupted him “Listen, I’m not criticising – I’m just saying. And I know it’s not fucking easy. But if I can get something so can you” 

 

“Not many people willing to take a chance on a failed politician” Arthur said deceptively lightly. 

 

“Feck off, you didn’t fail, you quit. Not the same thing at all. Get back out there, you’ll see” 

 

Arthur opened his mouth to reply when a sleepy voice called him from the doorway to their room. 

“I smell bacon” Merlin said “ You’re having bacon and didn’t wake me. That’s got to break just about every bro code there is” 

 

Calum looked at the severely depleted packet. “If I say I saved you some will it make up for it?” he said , putting the frying pan back on the heat. 

 

Merlin padded over. “If you have brown sauce you’re forgiven” he said and was surprised when both Calum and Arthur burst into peals of laughter. Merlin slid onto the stool beside Arthur and shuffled for a moment. “This is more comfortable than Doonshee” He said. “Even if you are sneaking extra bacon”

Arthur relaxed into the familiarity of the atmosphere. 

 

Calum handed Merlin the bread and pointed at the butter. “Make your own” he said pointedly but added “You know, if you two could stay on I could get tickets for the match on Saturday. I know a guy who knows a guy. Like old times” 

 

“We can’t” Arthur said automatically “Merlin has an early shift, we have to get back” 

 

Merlin nudged him with his foot. “You stay” Merlin said “I can get the train back and there is a bus to Abbotsmead from the station. No problem” 

 

Arthur gave him a measured look. “What about your leg?” He said 

“Exercise is good for it” Merlin insisted “Watch the rugby. That will be good for you” 

 

Arthur could see the hope in Merlin’s eyes and did not let him down. He agreed.

 

++++++ 

The match was good and Arthur was surprised to find himself getting caught up in the excitement even though he wasn’t invested in either team. It felt good. Afterwards he and Calum went for a meal and a few drinks. Relaxed by wine Arthur told Calum of the offer made by Clarissa. 

 

“I KNEW that you would be headhunted” Calum crowed over the froth of his beer. “So you’ll be back in the spotlight in no time” 

 

The thought gave Arthur pause. There would be a media surge when the news got out. His stomach curdled. 

 

“I won’t be taking her up on the offer” he said decisively, his mind made up. “I’m not ready” 

 

“Fuck that Arthur!” Calum snapped “No one is ever ready! That’s fucking life! If you wait til you’re ready you’ll be waiting forever. You’re not a fucking princess in a tower. Get over it”

 

“Snap out of it, you mean” Arthur said bitterly. 

“That’s not what I said” Calum said defensively “Have another pint” 

 

Arthur switched to water; Calum didn’t and the conversation turned rather stiffly to rugby. 

 

A few pints later and as Arthur propelled him home, Calum was much more mellow. 

 

“You’re my mate” he said effusively “You and Mez and Gui, we’re the Palace lads. We can take on the world yeah?” 

 

Arthur agreed and pointed Calum in the right direction. 

 

“The thing is” Calum said standing politely to let a lamppost step aside “The. Thing. Is. you don’t wanna be that guy, see?” He grew frustrated with the lamppost and stepped rather uncertainly to one side. “No manners” he complained to Arthur. “Now, what was I saying? Yeah, you don’ wanna be the guy in the news. No. I mean you do want to be in the news cos you love that but you wanna decide why you are in the news, you know?” He pointed an emphatic finger at Arthur. “Tha’s why you don’ wan’ to go back in to parli- thing – cos you know they are going talk about the gay thing not what you want an you hate that. Mez now, Mez just wants to be left alone an’ not get beaten up n’stuff but you just don’ want to be gay, tha’s what I think” 

He stood still again as his words washed over Arthur like a chill wave. “Arthur, why won’ people get out of the way?” Calum whined. 

 

Arthur took a breath. No point in arguing now. “Because that’s a traffic light Calum” he said with patience he did not feel. Calum looked shamefaced. 

 

“Am I drunk?” he said “Shit, I’m drunk. Lydia will kill me. Arthur, me oul pal, take me home” 

 

“I will” Arthur said and he did. 

 

That Arthur tried to sleep but failed. Instead his mind went over Calum’s drunken ramblings; first with anger then with thought. It was not something he had seen in himself but maybe...Thoughts chased themselves through his mind until he was almost disorientated. One thought stayed clear. If he was the problem then he would have to be solution. And he would have to find the answers himself. Right now he was still hunting the questions. And somehow he was sure he would not find the questions in Abbotsmead. He began to feel drowsy but stayed awake to call Merlin before he went on his early shift. The figures on the display on his phone blurred as he watched them but when they hit 6 am he rang Merlin. 

 

“Hey” said Merlin warmly. “I didn’t think you’d call now. I left early. I’m in the car”

 

“I know” said Arthur “I just... I think I’m going to stay a little longer in London” 

“Oh” said Merlin. 

After years of phone calls and a year of close quarters, Arthur could interpret Merlin’s ‘ohs’. This one – containing at least three syllables in a very distinctive accent conveyed concern, a question and a query. Arthur answered the unspoken query first before the question. 

 

“Nothing is wrong” he said “I just think I need to sort stuff out for a bit” 

 

“It’s okay with Calum?” Merlin asked and Arthur started. He had not asked and he said as much. 

 

“It’s fine” he said, improvising “If I need to I’ll get a place” 

 

“Get a place?” Merlin said quickly, the phone distorting his voice “How long are you planning to stay?” 

 

Arthur hadn’t thought it through “I don’t know – look I should have called you when you can’t talk. It was just something Calum said made me think and this is a good place to... well..” 

 

“What did he say?” Merlin said very quietly. 

 

“He said I didn’t want to be gay” Arthur said “I don’t know... I need to ...” Exhaustion was catching up with him and it was getting harder to think. 

 

“Oh” said Merlin “Oh” 

Arthur felt too tired to explain, “It’s the wrong time to call,” he said “You’re driving and I need.. Look I’ll call back when you’re home and we can talk” 

 

He disconnected the call and lay back on the pillow. In a few moments he was asleep. 

 

=====================================================================

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if it is a plus or a minus that the slow write of this - (minutes stolen here and there to actually type but lots of time in between to think)- has made it a little more complex than I thought it would be - and I didn't get to what I thought would be in this chapter. Calum insisted on getting drunk and making everyone think...


	11. Perhaps Perhaps

Merlin sighed as he put the key into the lock. The journey from London had been long, with the train delayed and the bus taking a detour. Despite his protestations, his leg ached and now he was coming home to an empty house. He pushed open the door and felt the chill enfold him as he plodded down the hallway. 

 

He thought out his options for the evening and narrowed them down to a M&S ready meal for dinner and an early night. There was no point in staying up, and cooking anything more complicated could be dangerous. Arthur still talked about The Great Sausage Debacle as if setting off a smoke alarm was A Big Thing. Merlin considered the smoke alarm a handy reminder that he had left something on the grill – and he was very adept at scraping off the burnt bits thank you very much. 

Nevertheless Arthur had forbidden him from cooking anything that involved active tending on account of Merlin’s tendency to wander off and forget it. Merlin himself had decided to avoid anything that involved the oven after the Non-Roast Beef fiasco. (He had pointed out to Arthur that forgetting to turn the oven on was a much lesser sin than setting fire to the grill but Arthur had been hungry and was looking forward to actual cooked meat and disagreed). So Merlin was back to his old frenemy the microwave, and the wonder that was a ready meal. 

 

He sighed as he waited for the microwave to ping. Merlin had been in the house on his own many times but always with the knowledge that Arthur would be back in a few hours. This was different and even waiting until tomorrow was uncomfortable. 

 

He took his laptop to bed to watch a movie but turned it off after the first half hour. Arthur’s side of the bed gapped and Merlin realised that since their partnership ceremony they had not spent one full night apart. Subconsciously Merlin was waiting for Arthur to stomp out of the bathroom, complaining that they were out of his favourite shower gel, before throwing his damp robe on the chair (again) and sliding under the duvet. It was just as well Arthur would be back tomorrow. Merlin realised that absence could sometimes be a bigger thing than presence. He reached over and laid his arm over the bare pillow. He was, he decided, completely domesticated. He liked having someone to come home to, liked hearing a loved other meander around the house, liked having that loved body in the bed like a centre of gravity, rooting him. 

He knew that when Arthur returned to politics he would have to get used to the empty bed on occasion but right now he didn’t want to get used to it. He sighed and tried to sleep. 

 

Merlin woke before dawn, the alarm thrilling loudly in his ear. He cheated for a few extra minutes and paid by skipping breakfast. It meant he was on the road earlier than usual – a good thing, he thought, as the heavy rain would make driving conditions difficult. 

 

Not expecting Arthur to call, Merlin was surprised when his phone rang. Seeing who it was, he pulled into a gateway and took the call. 

 

A few minutes later he wished he hadn’t. 

 

Merlin stared at the phone in his hand, call disconnected glowing balefully. At the back of his mind a refrain was hammering at the edges of consciousness. ‘notagainnotagainnotagain’. He wanted to throw the phone away – to shout at Arthur – to say ‘NO you don’t get to do this. We made promises. In front of witnesses. In front of our friends’ He wanted to say ‘We are a We now – you don’t get to decide – not now – not after everything’ .

 

A rebel voice in his heart said ‘Yes, but Arthur has been miserable. He is not happy. You do not make him happy. This was a mistake’ 

 

Merlin closed his eyes and drew a long breath. He wanted to cry but he did not. He turned on the ignition, signalled carefully and drove out. The windscreen wipers beat out a single word ‘misTAKE, misTAKE with every swipe but Merlin ignored it. He focused on the task of driving – with a precision that a driving instructor would admire. When he got to work he parked carefully and walked in, shutting down all thought of Arthur. He had a job to do and it deserved his full concentration. His heart could wait. 

 

Twelve hours later his heart was still numb. He drove home, splashing through puddles that were expanding across the road. He dreaded hearing from Arthur. He tried to remember the way Arthur had wanted him only a few nights ago in Calum’s. He wanted to remember the touches, the fierce passion, the deep wanting that he had felt from Arthur, but in this dark night, it all seemed like a goodbye. 

 

Turning on the radio, Merlin tired to find distraction. It didn’t help.   
“You seem so far away though you are standing near.  
You make me feel alive though something died I fear.   
I really try to make it out. I wish I understood   
What happened to our love, it used to be so good” 

 

Merlin snapped off the radio and cursed. He felt the anger he had felt at Arthur’s call return. He had promised himself he would never be the one to walk away and now he determined he would not let Arthur walk away without a fight. Arthur was worth fighting for – even if it meant fighting Arthur. His hands tightened on and the wheel and he looked with alarm at the speedometer. He was going far too fast for the conditions. He made a conscious decision to slow down and taking a deep breath, tried to get back to his working mindset while he was driving. He could think about Arthur when he reached home. 

 

It was just as well he did so. Two miles from Abbotsmead he came across a tree fallen half way over the road. He stopped and put on his hazard lights and called the police. A few moments later another car swung around the corner, a little too fast and was forced to swerve, ending up coasting into the ditch at the side of the road. The driver, a young man, got out, and went to help the passenger, who was complaining loudly. Merlin went to assist but was pushed away by angry hands. 

The passenger was an older woman who shouted at Merlin as she hauled herself out of the car and away from the muddy ditch. “I’ll have the law on you!” she shouted “Stopping in the middle of the road!” Merlin said nothing but pointed at the large tree trunk crossing the road ahead of them. 

“The police are on their way” he said calmly. “I was about to set out a warning triangle when you..” 

 

The driver was apologetic. “If we’d hit that tree, Auntie....” his voice trailed off but the passenger was undaunted . 

 

“The council should do something about all these trees falling.” She said crossly. “And I’m getting wet. Get that car turned around and take me home” The young man, obviously her nephew, looked cowed. Merlin recognised Mrs. Glossup from the store. He had a negative Casablanca moment: of all the fallen trees in all the country roads in all the counties of England she had to drive into this one. But the sensible side of him noted it was logical – it was the main road into Abbotsmead after all. 

 

The young man looked at his car which was skewed awkwardly over the ditch at the side of the road and looked as if it would take some man-handling before it was going anywhere. He looked hopefully at Merlin . “Could you help me give it a push?” he asked Merlin. 

 

Merlin thought briefly about his weak arm and leg but said nothing as he went to help. He hated drawing attention to his disability and in this instance it would sound like a petty excuse. He could feel the strain on his leg as he pushed but though there was some movement, the car remained stubbornly off road. 

Mrs. Glossup was scathing. 

“Should have known a nancy-boy wouldn’t be any use” she said crossly. Merlin did not know whether to walk away and confirm her prejudices or to push himself beyond what was safe to prove her wrong. Common sense warred with ego and he was only saved from deciding by the arrival of blue flashing lights as the police showed up. 

The car contained two officers, who both looked a bit bemused at the situation – especially when Mrs. Glossop began shouting at them to give a hand to get her home. While one officer set up warning lights on the other side of the obstacle, the younger one helped push the car. With the extra muscle the car moved and Mrs. Glossop crowed. 

 

“See” she said “That’s what real men can do – none of your namby pamby poofs needed here!” She sounded quite triumphant as she settled into the passenger seat and ordered her nephew to take her home. Merlin was glad to see the back of her. He stood at the side of the road, hood up and hands in his pockets as the police had safely closed the road, using his car lights to give them extra light.

 

“The council are busy tonight” one remarked to Merlin “I doubt they’ll get here before morning” 

 

“We’re lucky there hasn’t been an accident” commented Merlin and later he would admit to tempting fate as just at the moment another car did exactly the same manoeuvre as Mrs. Glossop’s nephew and ended up in the ditch. This time the driver was hurt and Merlin went straight into EMT mode, much to the relief of the young officer who was evidently new to the job. 

 

Merlin called in the accident and managed to speak with his colleague. 

 

“I have a bus about four miles away but it is on the other side of that tree” the dispatcher said “I’ll have to send one from town. It may take a while” 

 

Merlin waited for the ambulance to arrive, by which time a small string of cars had stopped by the tree. Once they realised there was no hope of getting through that night, they turned around and one by one, drove off into the dark. 

 

As the ambulance left, the council team arrived, equipped with chainsaws and the night grew noisy. Merlin went back to Belinda, still sitting at the side of the road, lights flashing. 

 

“Thank you for your help Sir” the young officer said. “We’ll have that tree out of the way by the morning.” 

Merlin recognised this as a dismissal but he hesitated. He suddenly realised he was not sure of an alternate route to Abbotsmead. If it had been his own home town he would have known every side road, but here he was lost beyond the beaten path. He had a sudden sense of being an alien in this English countryside. 

 

Merlin was startled from his reverie by a gruff voice at his shoulder. 

 

“You be from the far end of village” the voice said. Merlin turned and saw a villager form Abbotsmead. “No need for ee to go the long way” she said “You follow me and I’ll show you the go-around” Merlin was startled but agreed. She led off down a farm lane which turned on to a narrow road which in time turned on another lane. To his surprise Merlin recognised it as the lane at the back of their house – the one he used every day to get his car into the parking space. The woman gave a cheery wave and Merlin smiled to himself. Maybe he wasn’t a total alien. 

 

It was only as he entered the still empty house that the reality of Arthur’s absence hit him again with renewed force. He sat at the kitchen table, unable to get the energy to microwave another lonely ready meal. The anger and resolution he had felt earlier was gone and Merlin simply wanted Arthur’s presence. 

 

Staring at his phone, he was half tempted to turn it off – deny battle while he was tired. But that was the equivalent of running and one person running in the relationship was enough. 

 

The phone didn’t ring. 

There was no rule which said he could not call Arthur. He could do it at any time. 

 

He didn’t call. 

Merlin sat at the table until common sense told he had to eat and rest. Taking a few biscuits, Merlin went to bed, phone propped up beside him. He didn’t sleep. 

At 11.32 pm a text came through – succinct as befitted a careful politician 

FROM ARTHUR   
Sorry – lost track of time – working on something – won’t disturb you this late – call 2moro. Love you. 

 

Merlin debated whether to call back but did not. Arthur did not want to talk; That was evident. What work was he doing that made him forget his call? What was he figuring out? 

 

Merlin spent an uncomfortable night, swinging between feelings of anger and self sacrifice which made him emotionally dizzy. This time he took the extra minutes to have breakfast to ensure he wouldn’t be actually dizzy but in most other respects the day was the same as yesterday. It was still raining. Work was as busy as usual. He was tired when he got home. 

The lights were on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seem to be on a two-weekly schedule now - apologies. This chapter is a little on the short side but in my defence I wrote this and Arthur's POV in parallel so it took time. On the plus side - it won't be two weeks for the next bit. 
> 
> Thank you for still reading.


	12. Meetings

Arthur had woken late – but he still rose earlier than Calum. Entering the empty living room Arthur turned on the TV to avoid thinking. He was still confused about how to set about fixing his life. He was pretty sure the answers could be found in London but he wasn’t terribly sure what the questions were. An hour or so of mindless TV seemed like a good plan, though he was surprised to find the TV was tuned to a cartoon channel. Disinclined to look for the remote, Arthur settled back to look at the personal adventures of multi-coloured ponies and wonder about Calum’s viewing habits. 

Calum himself entered the land of the living at about midday. 

“Jaysus,” he said “I am too old for this – what did I drink last night?”

“Everything you could” Arthur answered drily. Calum slumped on the sofa and clutched his head. He pointed at the TV. 

“Too bright” he said mournfully. 

Arthur stifled a laugh. “It’s your taste in TV” he said 

Calum sighed “Don’t judge. Any chance of coffee?” 

Arthur bit back a response that it was Calum’s flat and set about making coffee and toast. Finding eggs in the fridge he decided to have boiled eggs and soldiers for himself. If he was going to be a kid and watch cartoons he might as well have kid’s comfort food too. Amazingly he even managed to boil the eggs just right and Calum’s groans as he dunked his toast soldiers into the runny egg made it entirely worth it. 

When the coffee had returned Calum to a shade slightly less green, Arthur broached the subject of staying on. Calum was agreeable.

“I knew you needn’t the Big Smoke. You’re a city boy at heart. You job hunting or something?” He was causal but his eyes (albeit bloodshot) were sharp. Arthur shrugged. 

“Or Something” he said. He still had no idea how to start. 

“My laptop su laptop” said Calum butchering both language and phrase and making the linguist in Arthur wince. “Seriously – everything you need to know is there” Calum added. 

Mentally Arthur put on a caveat – If you know what you’re looking for. 

 

Eventually Arthur grew tired of ponies with friendship issues, but as it seemed to be Calum’s go to hangover cure, he got short shrift when he asked to change the channel. 

“I told ya, there’s the laptop – get searching” Calum said pointedly. 

Arthur went for a walk to avoid even more. 

 

Walking through the streets of Battersea didn’t help much. True it was a lot less colourful but the sight of people with places to hurry to, people to talk to, business to carry out, made Arthur ache again. He missed the security of their house at Abbotsmead, the comfort of routine. But he also missed the hustle and bustle of the busy city. He missed belonging, he missed being in the know. 

 

Clarissa’s offer opened that door again. So why was he reluctant to enter? Arthur trudged on, oblivious to his surroundings. Calum’s words echoed in his head. Arthur did like to control his image. Even in school he had carefully organised his life so that he was only noticeable in things he excelled at. Merlin had once said that Arthur had studied linguistics because his father had not – Arthur could be good at something that was his and Arthur had to grudgingly agree. Politics was an open field – the Press could come up with an angle that no one had anticipated – but even then Arthur could manage the news, control the story. He even succeeded in controlling how he came out. It was after that that he lost control. 

 

The streets did not offer a distraction to his thoughts but the weather did. It had been drizzling rain all the time he was out but he had barely noticed it. Now it began to rain hard. Not the ‘This Is Britain – Keep Going’ type of rain that was the reason behind every rolled up umbrella in the City. This was the ‘Going To Dump An Ocean On Your Head’ type that sent everyone scurrying for cover. Arthur was no exception. Collar up, he followed a score of drenched people into a doorway. He looked around and saw pictures of dogs. Lots of pictures of dogs. In fact there was a doggy odour that mingled with the scent of wet human and dodgy parkas. 

 

Arthur realised he had sheep-walked in to the Dogs Home. A very friendly assistant bustled over to the dripping crowd and ‘encouraged’ them to take a tour. One look at the still torrential sheets of rain outside was enough to convince practically everyone to pay up and follow her. 

 

He trailed along at the back and caught snatches of the history of Battersea Dog’s Home, of the policies of the home and of the work they do. On the way he saw dogs. 

Many dogs.

Most of whom were eager for attention. 

 

The girl stopped at one part and gave lengthy lecture on Staffordshire terriers and how they make wonderful pets. Arthur couldn’t help noticing how many of the friendly dogs currently licking fingers were Staffies. He couldn’t blame her for trying. He moved slightly and felt his sodden feet squelch in his shoes. He would have to either dry them or get more before tomorrow – he hadn’t another pair with him. He sighed. The dog in the kennel beside him huffed in response. Arthur looked over and saw a pair of small whiskey brown eyes looking at him. Amazingly it was not a Staffi, judging by the whiskery face and long nose. Arthur squelched again. He had a sudden image of himself in proper suit and bedroom slippers walking along the High Street. He snorted. The whiskery dog huffed again as if to say ‘You and Me Both, Mate’. 

 

Arthur looked at the kennel. In a page beside each occupant was a sheet with details, written in a conversational style. This one began with ‘I am a Boy’ and included ‘I may like living with cats’ and ‘I would like a garden but a park close by would be okay’ 

 

Arthur ruminated on what he would put on such a sheet for himself. Would he start with ‘I am a boy’? Or had he finally assumed the adulthood that would entitle him to say ‘I am a Man’? What would he put in the rest? ‘Good with people’? He thought not. He could charm people effortlessly, manipulate them easily but Merlin was the one who was good with people. Where Arthur saw handles with which to steer people, Merlin saw opportunities to help them. 

 

He could fill out a sheet like this on Merlin. Merlin was a man – despite the fact that he had Batman pyjamas. (Arthur couldn’t say anything – he had bought them as a Yay-you-can-walk-up-the-stairs-on –your-own gift). 

 

Merlin was good with people, liked long walks (less so since his leg was hurt), enjoyed cuddles and definitely loved the garden; a nearby park wouldn’t be enough for him after Abbotemead. Arthur sighed again, missing Merlin. 

 

His canine companion raised his head enquiringly, tilting it slightly to one side. When Arthur did not speak he lowered his head again and – well, he grumbled. It was a sound; not a growl nor a whine but quite distinctive. He gave Arthur a ‘Are you wasting my time’ look and put his head on his paws. Arthur felt he had been a disappointment. 

 

“Sorry” he said. “Got a lot on my mind” The dog looked at him with suspicion, then gave a grumble that sounded fairly placatory. “I’m trying to figure something out” Arthur had no idea why he was still talking but he couldn’t stop. “The thing is” he said “I feel like I am half way down a well. Right now I am looking up and I can see that there is sky and light but tomorrow I might be looking down and everything will be dark and I don’t know how to get out” 

 

The dog whined quietly and then grumbled again. Arthur gave a short laugh. 

 

“And I may be crazy, talking to a dog” he said. Arthur was not given to metaphorical comparisons but suddenly he felt the weight of the darkness he had pictured fall upon him. He ran his hand over his face and heard the dog whine again. 

 

“What should I do?” Arthur whispered. The dog slumped on his paws and closed his eyes. Arthur laughed bitterly. “That’s how I feel most days” he said. When the dog didn’t look up Arthur sighed and moved off towards the disappearing tour group. As he reached a corner he heard a single bark, booming like a foghorn behind him. He turned involuntarily and saw ‘his’ dog stand up on impossibly long legs. The dog looked at him, head tilted again and Arthur nodded at him in acknowledgement, then turned away. He heard a prolonged grumble behind him but he did not turn around. 

 

The tour group were almost out of sight but Arthur caught up just as the guide was explaining how to adopt a pet. For a moment Arthur considered it, but he rejected the idea. A cat now... Merlin liked cats. In a way, Merlin was rather like a cat – lithe and quiet, loving peace and stability but capable of swift action. A cat would mean home for Merlin. Arthur paid attention to the cats but none of them spoke to him. Absently, he found himself thinking about the grumbly dog in the other section. What type of dog was tall and whiskery and looked so world weary? He gave himself a mental shake. He was not thinking of a dog. Or a cat for that matter. 

 

He browsed the information leaflet and kept one eye on the weather. It was still raining but only in the one-drop-at-a-time way not the whole-bucket-on-your-head form that had driven him to seek refuge here. 

 

As he browsed he became aware of a young woman standing in his eye-line, obviously trying to get his attention. Arthur raised an eyebrow, in an expression Merlin called imperious (Actually he called it ‘Arthur posing as a pompous prat but Arthur preferred imperious). It usually worked to repel unwanted attention but in this case the girl simply smiled back, rather shyly. It was a nice smile and Arthur felt guilty unleashing the next phase in his Go-Away arsenal. Instead he asked “Have we met?”. 

 

The girl blushed. “No” she said “It’s just... you’re Mr. Pendragon, aren’t you?” 

 

Arthur nodded, surprised. The girl continued. “I saw you, at the speech, when you... I mean...” She blushed again. “I just wanted to say that I think you’re... I mean... it really helped, I ... Oh! I’m so bad at this... would you... would you have a coffee with me? I’d really like to talk with you and it seems so lucky just meeting you like this...”

 

Her voice trailed off as Arthur looked at her and he wondered if he looked as surprised as he felt. He must have done because the girl began to speak again, stammering in her anxiety. 

 

“Oh please, I’m not trying to hit on you... it’s just ..” She hesitated and blushed even more before trying again. “I think I’m gay” she said very quietly “and I haven’t told anybody and ...” Once again she was silent. 

Arthur was startled by her words. There was no way he was suited to be anyone’s gay Yoda and he tried to formulate a polite refusal when he really looked at her and saw the pain in her eyes. Arthur Pendragon, former minister would still have said no but Arthur, partner of Merlin Balinson could not ignore that pain. 

 

“I don’t know what I can say” he pointed out “But we can get coffee” 

 

The girl smiled widely in relief and the set out into the still falling rain. The getting coffee part of the plan turned out be as big a problem as thinking about what to say to the obviously hero worshiping lost lamb. There were few places open and they walked further than Arthur wished before they found a pub, the girl apologising with almost every step. 

 

Inside the pub they both decided against coffee after all. Arthur ordered his perennial water and noted that the girl (Tammy – she had given him her name during one of the mumbled apologies) asked for a coke. Somehow it made her seem even younger. 

 

They sat on opposite sides of a corner table and Tammy talked a little. She was twenty two, newly graduated and had just got an internship in a prominent City company but she was totally confused about her personal life. 

 

“I’m afraid” she admitted “I know I shouldn’t be but I am. When I saw you at Uni it all made sense but then I started at the company and – well it’s scary. I’m afraid of what people will say. I know the papers, well I know what they said but...” she paused and took a sip of her coke. “But it was worth it, wasn’t it? You are happy now?” her eyes pleaded with him as she spoke, before looking down at the table in a confusion of shyness and hope.

 

Arthur stared at his expensive fizzy water and gave a silent and bitter laugh. Since being Out he had lost his job, probably ruined his career, alienated his father, in all likelihood was on the way to clinical depression but was too scared to go to a doctor, and was, at the moment undergoing an existential crisis of his own ... Happy he wasn’t

 

“I’m happy” he said. 

 

Tammy smiled and her smile made Arthur feel even worse. This was as much living a lie as being in the closet. He shook his head as if to get the thought out but it wouldn’t go. 

 

“No – that’s a lie. I’m not happy” he snapped and her smile disappeared. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant being with ...” He paused and gave Merlin anonymity “With him. But no, I’m not happy with my life” He had a sudden fear that she was reporter but he didn’t care. He found it strange that he was telling the truth to a stranger when he rarely admitted it to himself but he could not stop. “I don’t know how to reconcile who I am with who I am” he said not expecting to be understood, but Tammy nodded. 

 

“That’s how I feel” she said sadly. “I’m hiding from me too” 

 

They both sat staring at their depressingly non alcoholic drinks. Arthur felt the pull to look away from the light and see only darkness. 

 

“So I guess that’s it” Tammy said finally. She looked around vaguely as if she had luggage to find and stood up. “Well, it was nice meeting you. I hope you find...” Her voice quavered slightly and that broke Arthur. He was Arthur Pendragon. He fixed things. He was the one who answered questions – he did not leave people helpless. 

 

“I don’t know yet how to help us” he said “I don’t know the answers – but I will find out. Give me your number and I will get back to you and I will find something.” Even to his own ears he sounded confident, something that surprised him. He felt a surge of adrenalin he had not felt for some time. 

 

Tammy smiled again and sat down. “I believe you” she said. 

 

After that Arthur relaxed. Tammy told of her hopes and of her time in Uni. Arthur added in some of his own stories of college. He felt better than he had in a very long time, retelling tales of his misspent youth and remembering the times when confusion was an expected part of life. 

 

When they parted, an hour or so later, it was as friends and Arthur was determined to find a way to help Tammy with her identity crisis. If, in the process he helped himself that was a bonus. 

 

He arrived back at Calum’s flat to be greeted by rapidly cooling Chinese food. 

 

“I ordered for you” Calum said, pointing at the foil containers “I figured hunger would bring you back eventually” 

 

Arthur smiled. Friends fed friends – the Doonshee rules applied. 

 

“I take it the hangover is eased off” Arthur said as he picked up chopsticks. Merlin still said he only did it to show off but he insisted that skills mattered. Even if Merlin has sneaked up on him and found him using a fork when he was on his own. Calum didn’t have to know that. 

 

“Use a fork” said Calum. “You know you want to. And I feel like my head’s been trampled by a herd of angry dinosaurs, thanks for asking. I used to be able to handle this shit. I am getting old Arthur? ” 

 

“We’re grown up” Arthur said reflectively. 

 

Calum coughed wildly “When the fuck did that happen? I mean you, yeah, all the three piece suits and interviews on the BBC and being sensible an all, but me? That can’t be”

 

Arthur looked at Calum, an egg fried noodle stuck to his beard and had pity. 

 

“Don’t worry Cal” he said. “Nobody’ll notice ” He deftly avoided the cushion Calum threw at him and very kindly did not mention that ownership of said cushion (very tastefully toning with the decor) definitely put Calum in the grown-up category. 

 

Arthur remembered his new sense of purpose. “Is the laptop offer still open?” he asked. Calum nodded and Arthur eagerly began to research. 

 

For the very first time he began to explore sites with LGBT tags. He hadn’t noticed how he had avoided any such sites before but now, as he wandered the internet he also explored his own inhibitions. 

 

He knew who he was. He was – he hoped - happy with who he was. He was not happy with what he was expected to be. And here, looking at comments and factfiles, he had to admit, some of the expectations he rejected were his own. 

 

He read on, into the evening becoming aware that, he was, in his own head, homophobic. He had bought into the norms of a society that created stereotypes then rejected those who came close to meeting them. He didn’t want to be gay because he didn’t want to be lumped in with an image and lifestyle he rejected (though to be fair the lifestyle he rejected was strangely similar to that which he had enjoyed as a party-going rich kid in college.) He realised he had more issues than he thought. 

 

In the middle of his musings he noticed the time. Eleven thirty. Merlin, ever the responsible one, would be in bed, making sure he had sufficient sleep before his early shift. A call now would wake him and disrupt his rest. Arthur even hesitated over sending a text for the same reason but in the years of their relationship they had never not communicated and he could not let the night go without telling his love that he was his love. Even if he was totally confused about everything else. 

 

In a strange way Arthur was relieved not to talk with Merlin. His throat was tight with tension and he knew he could not pretend he was okay if he spoke with Merlin. This way maybe he would at least have questions by the time they talked. He went back to research. 

 

When he finally stumbled into bed three hours later, he had a plan. 

The morning was spent making phone calls, the early afternoon in visits – one quite by accident - but the early evening found Arthur standing by his car on a street in Battersea. Calum would not be home until late. He could not call Merlin yet – his shift still had hours to go. On impulse Arthur got into his car, sent a quick text to Calum and headed west. 

 

Two and half hours later (after a short stop at a supermarket – he was going to cook) Arthur drew up outside the front door of their house in Abbotsmead. He felt the surge of peace that came from being at home. He wasn’t out of the darkness but at least he believed that light was possible. 

He went in and set about cooking. Merlin would be home soon.


	13. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay.
> 
> This has more than one POV - I hope it works - but I couldn't write it in two versions :) 
> 
> (If the POV is confusing please let me know)

Sq ch 13  
Row  
Arthur let himself in and turned on lights as he walked through the house. He saw that the bulb over the stairwell was blown and made a mental note to replace it. In the kitchen he dumped his purchases on the table and looked around. He was determined to cook – a few days of takeaways with Calum had created a deep-seated need for ‘ordinary’ food. And, as he suspected, the kitchen was untouched. It was likely Merlin would also be happy to have a respite from microwaved eatables. Arthur set to work, and happily chopped and sliced as he wrangled the temperamental stove.  
It felt good. When he thought this was all he had, it wasn’t enough, but with the hope of more, domestic life was good. 

======== 

Merlin looked at the light shining from the glass doors into the kitchen. His heart leapt. Arthur was home. No thief would leave the house looking like a Christmas tree. 

Arthur was home. The thought sang through his veins.

Arthur was home. 

In his hurry to get in, Merlin tripped on a loose paving stone and cursed briefly as it took him a moment to re-balance. 

Arthur was home. 

He opened the door. 

Arthur stood at the stove and the sight made all Merlin’s joy dissipate. Arthur looked happy, spoon in hand as he stirred a fragrant pot on the top of the stove. He was even wearing the apron Merlin had given him. When Elena had heard that Arthur did most of the cooking she had sent him a sexy novelty apron which Arthur thought hilarious. Merlin did not and quietly disposed of it, replacing it with a simple butcher’s style apron. It was strange; despite the fact that Merlin loved to mock Arthur’s pretensions, he hated to see Arthur being made ridiculous and the apron seemed to symbolise that. 

And here was Arthur – sensible apron tied on, looking happy and at home and Merlin felt a sudden and deep flare of anger. How dare he be happy, when Merlin had spent the last days in agony? What right had Arthur to look so at home when he had, with a word, undermined the foundations of that home? Merlin felt his irritation grow. 

Arthur smiled. 

“Hi” he said. “I thought you might like some real food” He gestured at the pot and the various plates and bowls on the table. Arthur was never the tidiest of cooks. 

Merlin scowled. He knew he was being petulant but he couldn’t stop himself. He resented the implication that he couldn’t look after himself for two days. 

“I managed fine” he said shortly. 

 

Arthur grinned. “I know” he said “I saw the packaging” 

Merlin felt humiliated. Arthur *was* saying he couldn’t look after himself. He snapped back. 

“I do what I need to” he said shortly. 

Arthur still smiled. “I know” he said softly. 

“Do you?” Merlin allowed his anger and resentment speak. “I nearly killed myself on that loose slab in the garden. I thought you said you’d ask Jack about it” Merlin got a brief moment of satisfaction when he saw the smile fall from Arthur’s face. 

“I’m sorry” Arthur said “I ...there was... I forgot” 

Merlin was on a roll “Oh Aye” he snapped “Not important then, since I’m the only one going out there in the dark then – is that it?” 

Arthur visibly flinched and Merlin’s satisfaction turned to guilt. 

“I’m sorry” Arthur said again, his voice back to the toneless quality that that had characterised it for the last months. Merlin felt sick but could not stop picking at the sore. 

“Sorry isn’t enough if I fall on it. Course you could just jump over it – you’re not a cripple!” 

“What? You’re not....” Arthur stopped speaking for a moment “Merlin what’s the matter?” he said in a more fearful tone. 

Merlin threw up his hands at the enormity of it all. Everything that mattered was up in the air- all the certainties of their life were once more uncertain and Arthur was making dinner. 

 

“If you don’t know then obviously nothing is the matter” he said angrily. Arthur looked him with frustration. 

“For God’s sake Merlin! Stop being a girl and tell me what’s going on” he said

 

“ISN’T THAT WHAT YOU WANT!” Merlin shouted feeling all his fear and tension explode. He didn’t look at Arthur as he went on but he was aware of Arthur’s sharp indrawn breath. 

 

There was silence and Merlin felt his own breath still as he waited for Arthur to agree. He risked a look and Arthur was staring at him, spoon in hand with an expression similar to the one he had had when Merlin had set fire to the toast. Merlin felt defensive. 

 

“You said...” Merlin could feel his breath coming between each phrase as if he had run a race and was now losing. “You said you didn’t... you said ...” Words failed him and he couldn’t articulate Arthur’s thoughts. Saying it made it real. 

 

“You said you were getting a place of your own” It was all he could force out. 

 

“I didn’t!” snapped Arthur panic in his voice. “I didn’t...” His voice trailed away as he was visibly trying to think of the last conversation they had. 

 

“Maybe... I don’t know ... The place?... I meant a hotel Merlin – if Calum needed the room – I meant a hotel.” He brushed his hand, still holding the forgotten spoon, across his face, leaving a red streak. 

 

“I can’t believe ... How could you think... How could you believe I would do that!” Arthur’s voice grew stronger and shook with anger. He looked down at his hands, sticky with sauce and took off the silver ring that was his only ornament. 

 

“This means something to me Merlin” he said angrily. “I made promises that day and I meant them – how could you think that I would simply leave” 

 

“I don’t think it’s simple” Merlin said “I don’t think it’s simple at all. But you haven’t been happy Arthur – not for ages – not since we came here. You gambled everything on me and lost” Merlin rolled his own ring around his finger. He had made promises too, and meant them. He had promised himself he would never be the one to leave. But what did that imply. Part of him wanted to fall at Arthur’s feet and beg him not to go, but that part would never be ascendant. Merlin could see life in Arthur again and the thought of sending him back to the despair he had been living in for months was more than Merlin could bear. If Arthur had to leave to be well Merlin would have to accept it. He made the decision as he stood in the brightly lit kitchen. He would let Arthur go. 

“Vows shouldn’t bind you” he said softly. “Sworn words may break a quaking heart” he said quietly. 

There was silence for a moment. Arthur looked at him. 

“Did you just mis-quote Tolkien at me?” Arthur asked. 

Merlin looked up sharply. That was not what he expected and it took the heat out his argument. 

“It’s true though” he said softly “ If the only thing keeping you is the promise – then...” 

 

Arthur groaned. “Oh God! Merlin! When will you believe I love you” he said, despair in his voice. 

Merlin ignored the despair and snapped back. “When you stop hating yourself” he said. 

 

There was a sudden frantic hiss as the pot Arthur had been tending, boiled over, spreading a red viscous liquid over the stovetop and spitting spitefully as it did so. 

 

“I’m trying” Arthur said quietly “I am trying”. His shoulders slumped and Merlin could no longer bear seeing Arthur hurt. He stepped forward and wrapped Arthur in a hug. 

“You do whatever you need” he said into Arthur’s ear. And then he added “I will be with you as long as you want me” 

Arthur hugged back, sticky hands ignored as he held Merlin close. “I’m not leaving” he said “No matter what I say, no matter what happens. I’m not leaving you. You and me, we’re Rory and Amy and I’m not leaving” 

Merlin felt some of the tension he had felt since the phone call two days ago ease in a mixture of sobs and laughter. 

“You’d wait a thousand years for me then?” Merlin asked lightly, voice breaking a little. 

“You’re assuming I’m Rory” Arthur said, sounding choked. “I am totally Amy. I kick ass” 

 

“So you’re the girl then” Merlin said, muffled by Arthur’s shoulder. 

Arthur smile was evident in his voice. “I think it’s time I grew up to be a man” he whispered. “But always yours” 

 

Merlin sighed and relaxed a little. He pulled out of the hug. 

“What were you cooking?” he said nodding towards the still sizzling mess on the stove.

Arthur huffed. “Bolognaise” he said. “From scratch” 

Merlin chuckled – still mixed with tears. 

“Looks as though it would have been good” he said. “So, beans on toast then?” 

 

================================================== 

It was an awkward meal. Merlin made toast – in the very basic toaster Arthur had bought when he had banned Merlin from the grill. The fancy programmable toaster that came with the kitchen had been pushed to the back of a cupboard. Arthur salvaged what he could of the Bolognaise and mixed it with the beans. 

 

“What?” he said as Merlin turned to raise an eyebrow at him as he stirred it in. “I’m experimenting.” 

 

Merlin pressed against Arthur as he passed. “We haven’t experimented enough lately” he said softly. It should have been seductive but to Arthur it simply sounded sad. 

 

Arthur had been bemused by Merlin’s initial peevishness but as the words had flown from both of them he had seen a look of such... such sorrow on Merlin’s face that Arthur was left shaking. He was reminded that while loving another person could hurt, being loved was a responsibility. 

 

For a time as they ate they avoided any topics with minefields. That left only the weather and even that was difficult. Merlin did not want to mention his close encounter with a fallen tree and Arthur was reluctant to talk about his rain-dodging diversion in Battersea. They ate solidly and though the Bolognaise and Bean toast was surprisingly delicious they would have eaten sawdust with just as much dedication in order to avoid talking. 

 

Gradually they introduced less difficult topics. Merlin mentioned they were out of dishwasher tablets and managed to string out a conversation on the relative merits of different brands and whether or not they should stick to old fashioned washing. Arthur discussed the tactics of the rugby match he had gone to with Calum, even if he had not been paying attention to the game. 

 

Riveting it was not. 

 

But the non-conversation had its purpose as gradually some of the tension they had created eased away in the inane flow of talk. Drama was difficult when you were eating beans and discussing shiny glasses. 

 

Arthur remembered that he had bought puddings in his brief shopping foray and produced them sheepishly. Merlin found a bag of their favourite cookies. Coffee was brewed. Even if nothing was settled between them, they had at least eaten well. 

 

It was Merlin who suggested an early night – tentatively, as if he thought Arthur would rebuff him. Arthur did not. 

 

Arthur delayed in the shower, feeling the hot water ease the tension he was carrying in his shoulders. When he returned to the bedroom, his side of the bed was empty, but Merlin stretched out for him as he slid under the duvet. Merlin was wearing a faded, worn and baggy pair of sleep pants, which he had brought from Belfast and a tee-shirt, almost as faded, which bore the saying ‘Thought is free’ across the front. This outfit was Merlin’s comfort jammies and Arthur fought his instinct to grab Merlin and hold him tightly. Such a move might be unwelcome. 

 

Merlin seemed to have no such worries. The moment Arthur settled in to the bed, Merlin wrapped himself around him like a gentle sloth. Arthur didn’t mind at all. 

 

And then Merlin broke their tacit truce and asked. 

 

“Did you mean it?” he said “When you said you didn’t want to be gay – did you mean it” 

 

Arthur wanted to lie – he didn’t want to see that look on Merlin’s face again. But Merlin deserved more than lies so he told the truth. 

 

“Yes” Arthur said. He felt Merlin shudder in his arms. 

================================================= 

Merlin worried while Arthur showered. He was shaken by his own actions. He had verbally beaten up Arthur – kicked him when he knew Arthur was vulnerable. Merlin was not by nature cruel. He knew he could be ruthless when needed but he got no pleasure from it. But today he had wanted Arthur to feel the hurt he had felt. And now he felt guilty. 

 

Merlin contemplated seducing Arthur as soon as he got into the bedroom but quickly abandoned that idea. He didn’t want make-up sex to be a thing for them and besides, deep down he was afraid that sometime Arthur would turn away and there would be nothing left. They would have to make up their rows by talking. And that would not be easy. 

 

As soon as Arthur slid under the covers Merlin hugged him close in apology. Arthur relaxed under his touch and Merlin fought the temptation to simply sleep like that – twined together. But he knew they needed to talk and this was the time. Despite the ferocity of his feelings as they rowed, Merlin realised that Arthur had not run. Conscious of not putting a strain on this new found emotional strength Merlin waited until Arthur was firmly grasped in his arms to take the chance and open the Pandora’s box again. 

 

Arthur’s answer shook him but did not surprise him. 

 

“Can we... Can we survive this?” Merlin asked. It was easier to ask when he could not see Arthur’s face.

 

Arthur was silent for what felt like a long time. Merlin could hear the sound of Arthur’s breathing counterpointed by the sound of the ticking clock. At last Arthur spoke. 

 

“I... If we don’t ...” He stopped took another breath “ I’m only a me when we’re a we” he said. 

 

Merlin sighed inwardly. Arthur had been around him too long he thought, he was picking up Merlin’s incoherent thoughts. He wriggled around so that he held Arthur even closer. 

“Love” Merlin said “I know that was very meaningful and all, but you’re going to have to give me more clues – say more and show me what you mean” 

 

Merlin felt Arthur take a deep breath – as if he was diving into the deepest ocean. 

 

“I don’t know how to be me anymore” Arthur said. “I think... I think the only part of me that still exists is your lover. Everything else is gone. That is the only part of me I recognise And I’m not even good at being that” 

 

Merlin tightened his arms in negation of that but Arthur went on. “I messed up today and I didn’t notice. I...” 

 

Merlin was not going to allow that. “We both messed up. We are a work in progress, Arthur” 

 

“I am going backwards” Arthur said bitterly., 

 

“You’re here” Merlin said quietly, realising himself the importance of the fact. Arthur had not run. “That is a big thing. You stayed”.

 

He placed a kiss on Arthur’s ear – which happened to be the most accessible point available. Arthur leaned into him, getting even closer, though Merlin would not have thought it was possible. For a moment they were still and silent, One Being, fused together with love. 

 

But though Merlin relished the moment he needed to hear more. He nudged Arthur gently with his foot. “Keep talking” he said “Tell me what you learned. You sounded - happy” Merlin felt the ever-present guilt rise up again. Arthur had come home full of purpose for the first time in months and he had struck out at him. He needed to know what Arthur was thinking to stop him doing that again. 

 

Arthur took time to respond and Merlin wondered had he fallen asleep. 

 

“I don’t like being different, Merlin” The murmur was barely audible in the quiet room. 

 

Merlin almost wanted to laugh. Of course Arthur wanted to be different. He wanted to be first –to be the best, to be great. That in itself meant wanting to be different. Merlin’s body must have shown his thoughts despite his silence as Arthur responded. 

 

“I know” Arthur said “I do want to excel – but I still play the game. I am not a rebel. I don’t want to give the establishment a bloody nose. I am the establishment. Or I was. Now I am...I’m nothing” 

 

He paused. Merlin had a sudden memory of sitting alone at lunch in the sixth form. He shuddered and pulled tighter. 

 

“Clarissa will bring you back” he said .

 

Arthur forced himself out of Merlin’s grip and rolled away. 

 

“And if she does?” Arthur said. “It won’t make any difference. I will still be Outside. You know the first thing the Press will ask is will I be promoting Gay rights” 

 

Merlin was puzzled. “Is that so bad?” he said. He wanted Arthur back in his arms. 

 

“Yes” said Arthur. Merlin stilled. “It’s not who I am, Merlin. I don’t kick the system, I work the system. I’m not a campaigner , I am the one people go to with campaigns – and now they won’t let me be that. And I don’t know how to be anything else.” 

 

His voice trailed away. Merlin lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. He understood what Arthur was saying. The memory of standing in front of his supervisor in Belfast and making a complaint of harassment against his colleagues swept over him. It had been the hardest thing he had done precisely because it went against his instinct not to rock the boat. In a way, he had resented being forced to complain as much as the persecution he had experienced. Arthur could find himself pushed into a box he hadn’t wanted. 

 

Arthur broke the silence. His voice was cold.

 

“I don’t know how to be what they expect. But I can learn” His voice became more hesitant. 

“ I have arranged an appointment with a counsellor tomorrow” he paused again. “I know you are off – could you, would you” Arthur took a deep breath “I have faced down the whole House of Commons in full attack mode but I’m scared, Merlin, I’m scared. Will you come with me?” 

Merlin’s heart broke a little that Arthur thought he wouldn’t. 

“I’ll go wherever you need me” Merlin said. 

Arthur rolled back and pulled Merlin into his arms, murmuring his thanks softly as he did so. Merlin snuggled closer and relaxed. 

 

“There’s someone I want you to meet” Arthur whispered “Tomorrow” 

“Today” Merlin said softly. “Let’s sleep” 

Merlin closed his eyes and relaxed. Arthur was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this three quarters finished when the tsunami of real life hit me and I couldn't even look at this. When I did I realised it needed editing - which I have not really done. I know this is more or less what they said - but I am not fully convinced it is how they said it. Started working on the next one. With luck, a fair wind and a star to steer her by, the updates should be back to normal. 
> 
> Thank you for reading this far.


	14. Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly fluff, and fully introduces a character I planned to bring in in November, before they went and got all angst-y

Sq ch 14 

The unexpected drive to London caused an unexpected problem. 

“We need to get petrol for Belinda” Merlin said at an unreasonably early breakfast. Arthur, still semi comatose, merely grunted. Merlin poured him another cup of coffee. Mornings were not Arthur’s Thing. 

“We’ll take the Alfa” Arthur said when he had been sufficiently caffeinated. 

 

Merlin dug his metaphorical heels in. 

“I’m driving” he said firmly “and I’m driving Belinda. And that means getting to a filling station before she goes dry and the nearest one doesn’t open ‘til nine. So we’ll have to wait” 

Arthur actually growled – though it may have been toast caught in his throat. 

“The drive is at least two and a half hours.” Arthur said, toast crumbs notwithstanding. “We can’t be late” 

Merlin understood Arthur’s anxiety but chose to downplay it. He stood behind Arthur’s chair and wrapped his arms around him, giving him a quick kiss on the nose. “I’ll make sure we get there – and it’s just as well we have time. You need to change. You’ve got egg on your tie - and on your chin” Merlin gave the offending chin a quick peck as he spoke. Arthur grinned as he did so and Merlin smiled back. Merlin had a feeling of satisfaction at the egg stains. They were a visible sign that, for once, he had been capable of boiling eggs – just right too. Merlin had felt a need to provide for Arthur and so had rushed to cook breakfast while Arthur showered. Who knew that Arthur’s shower was the right timing for Arthur’s favourite drippy eggs? 

It was just as well the egg boiling had been successful because Merlin couldn’t take a setback. He was terrified. Since his own traumatic Outing at seventeen he had not spoken with a counsellor. The closest he had some was a brief talk with his Mum and the long phone calls with Arthur. Given that Arthur was as emotionally restricted as he was that had not been much. The thought of revealing feelings to himself – let alone a stranger – was horrifying. But if that was what Arthur needed he would do it. 

But he’d be dammed if he would let Arthur drive on the journey. Which meant that when they set out, Merlin was driving and Arthur was pretending not to sulk. 

At precisely nine ten AM (and thirty seconds) Belinda drew into the forecourt of the only filling station in Abbotsmead. Merlin filled the tank and Arthur wandered over to the shop and picked up a newspaper. Under the fold Arthur caught sight of the Pendragon name, and with an inward groan he read the story. Then he went back to the car. 

 

Merlin noticed. 

“Arthur?” Merlin said. “You’re sitting on the newspaper” 

Arthur grunted in response, and stayed staring out of the passenger window. 

“Arthur, Why are you sitting on the newspaper?” 

Arthur ignored him 

“Arthur? What’s in the paper – and if you don’t answer me I will pull over and yell at you. You know I will” 

“Fine!” Arthur pulled out the newspaper and began to read. 

‘Uther Pendragon, founder and CEO of Pendragon Enterprises announced today that he has married his PA, Ms. Catherine Haverford in a private ceremony in the Bahamas. Ms. Haverford, an Oxbridge graduate, has worked for Mr. Pendragon for six months and ....’ 

Arthur’s voice tailed off. 

 

“Oh” said Merlin 

 

“Oh, indeed” Arthur went back to looking out the window. 

 

“Do you know her?” Merlin asked. 

 

Arthur snorted. “She’s Oxbridge. I could have scored her at a party and never known her name. She’s my age” 

 

Merlin heard the bitterness roll in the words. 

 

“Well, it’s...” Merlin started. Arthur interrupted. 

 

“He wants a son” he said. “He wants a son he can be proud of” 

 

“He has one” Merlin snapped “And if he doesn’t know it – that’s his loss” 

Arthur said nothing, though somehow Merlin’s swift defence did help. It was not enough though. 

 

They drove on through the motorway traffic. 

 

“Do you want to forget about going to this meeting?” Merlin said suddenly. “I could get off at the next exit and we could go home” 

 

“Don’t” said Arthur in a choked voice. “You don’t know how much I want to go home, close the door and shut out the world. Don’t make it easy for me” 

 

Merlin glanced at him in concern while trying to keep his eyes on the road. 

 

“Okay then” Merlin said “We keep going”. He paused and then said “What made you change your mind about finding a counsellor? You were set against it when I suggested it” There was no sign of hurt or accusation in his voice – deliberately so. 

 

Arthur took a minute to answer. Merlin was used to Arthur’s political pauses – usually accompanied by stalling phrases like ‘that is an interesting question’. This pause was different and Merlin wished he could stop the car and check on his partner. Arthur was still staring out the passenger window and his shoulders spoke of the stress he was feeling. Finally Arthur spoke. 

 

“Being depressed – people who aren’t – they think that means crazy and they would never trust me. But They – people like my father – they already think that I am Not Normal for being gay. They would never accept me getting help for being down – but looking for help for being out would be perfectly understandable” “Arthur said bitterly. 

 

This time Merlin was quiet. 

 

“We” he said finally. He could see Arthur turn to him in confusion. 

 

“We” Merlin repeated. “You said they think you are not normal. That’s we. You and me. We. We are a we. You don’t get to be weird on your own.” 

 

Arthur huffed a laugh. “You want to be weird then?” he asked. 

 

“Already am” Merlin said calmly and flashed a grin at Arthur. 

 

They drove on. 

 

Arthur’s phone began to sing. He looked at it with surprise. He rarely received phone calls anymore and had a sudden dread that it was a reporter. He looked at it with trepidation but did not answer.   
It was not a reporter 

 

“It’s your Mum” he said with surprise

 

“She doesn’t ring in the morning” Merlin exclaimed. “Oh God” It’s my Dad! Something’s happened and - ... I can’t even stop – damn this motorway” 

 

While he was babbling Arthur answered the phone. 

 

“Oh Good, dear, you’re awake” Mrs. Balinson said. Arthur refrained from pointing out that if he hadn’t been, the phone would have woken him, though on reflection he remembered many mornings in the last months, when he would not have been awake and his phone would have been turned off to separate him from the world. His reflections took only a second but he could see from Merlin’s frantic gestures that it was too long. He spoke. 

 

“Is everyone okay” he asked carefully. She answered in the affirmative and he repeated it. “So everyone there is fine” he said, watching Merlin’s shoulders relax. 

 

“Is Merlin fussing?” Mrs. Balinson said and chuckled as Arthur gave a non-committal cough. “I wanted a wee word with you, Arthur, before you go out to get the paper” she went on. 

 

“I’ve seen it” Arthur said abruptly, cutting into her words. 

“Oh” she said. Arthur reflected that this seemed to be a general response to his father’s marriage. “I take it you didn’t know?” 

 

“No” said Arthur, “Our mantelpiece has been seriously unencumbered by wedding invitations lately” He tried not to sound bitter but knew by the anxious looks Merlin was sending him that he had failed. 

 

“Oh” said Mrs. Balinson again. “Men of a certain age can get a wee bit awkward. I well remember my daddy. He insisted on taking up golf even though my mother thought it was just an expensive way of taking a walk. He bought all the fancy sticks and things but sure enough, he only went twice. After that he and my mother would go on walks by the sea instead. Those useless sticks stayed in the cupboard under the stairs ‘til he died.” 

 

“Clubs” said Arthur automatically “Wait – did you just compare my father’s new wife to a set of golf clubs?” 

 

At the wheel, Merlin gave out a gurgled laugh, quickly smothered. Arthur was so distracted by a sudden memory of the last time he had heard that laugh that he missed Mrs. Balinson’s response and only realised when he heard her call out to someone on the other end. 

 

“Arthur dear, that’s Kenny’s cab – I have to go. And don’t fret. You never know, that wee girl could be a nice addition to the family.” She hung up and Arthur was left staring at the phone. 

 

“My mum” said Merlin “She has got a way with her” 

 

“Want to swop?” Arthur said with a tinge of bitterness. “I seem to have an extra one.” 

 

Merlin forced a laugh. “She may be very nice, Arthur, you don’t know yet. And besides, you already have Mum. She has practically adopted you” He paused for a second. “But actually, that would make us brother – and No. Just No. We are not Sam and Dean so. No.” 

 

“What are you talking about, Merlin?” Arthur queried. Merlin glanced at him to gauge his mood. 

 

“All this time and I didn’t know you haven’t seen Supernatural” Merlin said lightly. “I foresee a LOT of marathoning in our future” 

 

He babbled on and Arthur relaxed into his words. This was their normal; whatever else life threw at them they could always find comfort in the ridiculous. He found himself smiling as they drove. 

 

Neither of them were smiling as they negotiated the London traffic. “We should have taken the train!” Exclaimed Merlin as he tried to deal with Congestion Zones. 

 

“You were the one who insisted on bringing a tank!” Arthur responded. Merlin glared at him when they stopped at traffic lights. 

 

Eventually they found parking and walked the rest of the way, both tensing as they got closer. Merlin wanted to run. He came from a long line of men who worked hard ignoring emotions until they exploded, and though he had opened up a little with Arthur, the thought of talking to a stranger was terrifying. If Arthur hadn’t asked him to be here, he wouldn’t be here. But Arthur had asked and Merlin was walking down a busy street looking for an address he didn’t want to find. 

 

Arthur stopped outside an innocuous building. “This is it” he said. 

 

Merlin drew a breath. “I’m a wee bit scared” he admitted. 

 

“I’m bloody terrified” said Arthur. He held out his hand. Merlin took it and they went in. 

==============

 

After all that the meeting with the counsellor was anticlimactic. The counsellor was kind but very professional and kept things to a very introductory stage. After an hour they were on the street. Merlin tried not to think that they could have dealt with all that in a phone call. 

“I think he was taking it easy with us” Arthur remarked as they stood on the pavement. 

“Pfffht” said Merlin “I got all worked up for nothing. Now we’ll have to do it all again” 

Arthur shrugged. “It is a start” he said. “But there’s something else. If you don’t mind...” He seemed hesitant “Do you mind taking a bus” Arthur said unexpectedly. “I doubt you want to drive in the city and there is ...” He trailed off and looked a little bit guilty. 

 

Merlin was bewildered when they ended up outside the Battersea Dog’s Home. 

 

“I thought we were heading for Calum’s place” he said “but unless he has seriously downsized...” 

 

“Um” said Arthur “I may not have told you everything that happened yesterday. 

 

Just then a girl waved over at them. 

 

“Arthur!” she said, blushing as she said the name. “Hi” 

 

Arthur was smiling at her, his true smile, and Merlin wished he could get over the jealousy that made him want to curl up and cry when any attractive person showed an interest in Arthur. 

 

The girl was smiling back which made it worse. Then Merlin felt a strong hand on his back. 

 

“Tammy” Arthur said, “This is Merlin. My Merlin” 

The wisps of jealousy faded away with Arthur’s possessive pronoun, and Merlin relaxed. The girl turned her smile on to him and Merlin began to like her. 

 

“Oh!” she said “I do hope you are better – well I mean you obviously are, but it can take ages” She started blushing again but Merlin didn’t mind. Arthur’s hand stayed where it was. 

 

After an exchange of pleasantries, Tammy moved off and Merlin looked at Arthur enquiringly. “And she is...?” he said

 

“Didn’t I tell you about Tammy?” Arthur was surprised. 

 

Merlin didn’t want to change the mood so he merely shrugged. “We haven’t had a lot of time to talk” he said with no emotion. “So why did you want me to meet her?” 

 

“I didn’t not want...” Arthur replied, then registering the look on Merlin’s face added “I mean, I don’t mind and I’ll tell you all about her but that’s not why I asked you to come here” He gestured toward the open door of the centre

 

Merlin laughed “Don’t tell me you want a dog!” he said lightly. Arthur looked away, two pink spots highlighting his cheeks. 

 

“I need to tell you about yesterday” Arthur said. “I sort of. Came here. It was an impulse and well...” He realised he was not doing a good job of explaining and so tried again. 

The previous day, returning early from setting up his appointment Arthur had impulsively gone into the centre. The dog with the deep bark and disconcerting growls was still there, though this time he barely raised his head when Arthur appeared. 

 

“I’ve made a start” Arthur had said “I don’t know if it will help but I have done something” 

 

The dog looked at him, head between his paws and grumbled. 

 

“I know it’s only a little thing but it has to count for something” Arthur said defensively. The dog grumbled again. 

 

“Mommy! That dog is talking! He’s talking to the man!” A high pitched voice with elegant vowels spoke from somewhere below him. Arthur looked down but the little girl was entirely absorbed in getting Mommy’s attention. 

 

“I want that one” She was saying “I want the talking dog” 

 

‘Mommy’ was not impressed. “Him? Darling, we are looking for an Afghan or a Borzi, not...Whatever That is. Really, Minerva, do you want your friends to see you with That?” 

 

“But he talks” the girl pouted as her mother swept on. Arthur looked at the grumbling dog. He still lay, head between his long legs, looking rather dejected.   
“You’re as good as any Borzi” Arthur found himself saying. The dog sighed. Arthur also sighed. It looked like the dog wouldn’t be leaving any time soon. Arthur was surprised to find that he was relieved at that. With that relief came a sudden sense of dread. What if Minerva had persuaded Mommy to take him? What if Arthur came back and he wasn’t there. 

 

“So I went to the office, filled out a registration form and had an interview” Arthur said to Merlin who was looking at him with increasing bemusement. 

 

“You want a dog?” Merlin said again. 

 

“Not A dog.” Arthur said patiently. “That dog. But you have to meet him to make sure you’re compatible. Come on” 

 

Merlin was still standing as Arthur moved off. “When did we decide to have a dog?” Merlin asked. He could feel irritation growing inside him. Not the You-Have-Broken-My-Heart irritation of the night before – more the irritation that came with living with another adult who liked his own way. Right now Arthur’s own way was about six steps away and Merlin ran to catch up. “I said, When Did WE decide to have a dog?” Merlin called to Arthur’s back. There was no answer. 

 

Merlin’s irritation had moved up to annoyance by the time he was standing in front of a kennel looking at the odd dog. The dog was thin, with the shape of a grey hound but with thick , curly fur. His eyes, golden brown and small, looked at Merlin with world-weariness and as Arthur stood in front of him he began to growl. Arthur smiled at that. 

 

“This is Grumbles” Arthur said proudly. 

 

“It says Pete” Merlin said, looking at the card. 

 

Arthur waved his hand dismissively “That’s just what he’s called, it’s not his name. His Name is Grumbles” 

 

Merlin looked at him dubiously but the look he got in return contained warnings that car names would brought up if he said anything. He said nothing. 

 

“The office is along here” Arthur said. “They’ll want to interview you about why you want a dog” 

 

“But I....” Merlin stopped when Arthur looked at him again, this time pleading. “Fine” he said mutinously “But you do all the work” 

 

The enthusiastic assistant gushed over Arthur and asked Merlin quite serious questions about attitude and work. Merlin answered as truthfully as he dared without disappointing Arthur. Underneath his annoyance at Arthur’s high-handed action was a tiny spark which said that this was ordinary relationship aggravation and not existential angst which tore at his heart. He could live with it. And, hopefully, with the dog. 

The assistant gave the details of ‘Pete’ as Merlin invisibly fumed. The dog was a stray, possibly a year old, probably a lurcher/terrier cross and had been in the centre for months. 

 

“We haven’t had any enquiries on him” The girl said “Probably because of his growling. But he is a sweet dog really” 

 

Another assistant brought the dog to meet them. Grumbles (really?) entered cautiously, but, on seeing Arthur, strode over, sat down firmly and very gently lay his head on Arthur’s knee. 

 

The assistants aw-ed and cooed but Merlin started at the look on Arthur’s face. Arthur looked a little scared, a lot happy and hugely proud and at that moment Merlin would have adopted every dog in the centre if it meant keeping that look. 

 

“Shall we take him outside” One of the assistants asked brightly. They all decamped to a small enclosed yard, Grumbles plodding by Arthur’s side. The assistant showed Grumbles a ball and then threw it. “Fetch!” she called. 

 

Grumbles looked at her, then looked at the ball, lying some distance away. With another pointed look at the girl he sat down. 

 

Merlin gave a shout of laughter as both the assistants and Arthur glared at him. 

 

“Oh, come on” Merlin insisted “It’s so obvious. He’s saying, you threw it, you get it” Going over to Grumbles Merlin knelt beside him. “You’ll fit right in with us” he said “you have the right attitude” Grumbles responded with a very articulate set of grumbly growls. Merlin looked up and saw Arthur smiling at them both and grinned back. 

 

They completed formalities but Arthur was dismayed to find that they could not bring Grumbles home that day. 

“We do a home check” the assistant said. “Since you live so far away, we will accept a vet’s recommendation instead” 

 

Arthur looked like Christmas had been cancelled but Merlin took the details and said he would sort it out. Then they took Grumbles back to the kennel. 

 

He walked placidly beside Arthur, looking up every now and then as if to reassure himself but when they reached the kennel, Grumbles backed away and whined. 

To the end of the world, Merlin would swear that Arthur also whined (though Arthur denied it quite strongly “Only teenage girls whine, Merlin”) 

“He has to go back in” the assistant said as Grumbles seemed to have glued his paws to the floor. Suddenly Arthur, in a move Merlin was familiar with, whipped off his jacket and presented it to the dog. Grumbles took it in his mouth and, with a look of scorn directed towards the assistants, stalked into the kennels, dropped the jacket and after turning three times sat down with a sigh. 

“That’s Armani!” the assistant cried. Arthur shrugged. 

Merlin wanted to shout out that that was why he loved this man. (He also wanted to check Arthur’s wardrobe – when did he start wearing Armani?). He settled for sighing and searching in his ubiquitous backpack for a rain jacket. 

After Arthur had said his farewells and Merlin had finalised details, they stood outside the centre. Merlin looked with askance at the traffic around them. 

“We are going to hit rush hour if we go now” he said 

Arthur nodded. “So, dinner?” Arthur said.   
“I assume we won’t be going posh” Merlin remarked. Arthur raised an eyebrow. 

“Do you think I wouldn’t bring you to a ‘posh’ restaurant?” Arthur asked. Merlin laughed. 

“Oh I’d be fine” Merlin said. “You wouldn’t get in. You don’t have a jacket.” 

Arthur threw his head back and laughed freely and Merlin soared on the sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All I know about Battersea Dogs home I got from their website - I apologise if I have any procedures wrong.


	15. Pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not at all happy with this chapter but nothing but a complete rewrite would fix it and I do not have the time for that. So I apologise in advance.

_______________________________

Arthur sat in the anteroom of the local party offices and waited as the local party bigwigs decided his future. If Clarissa was as good as her word – and he had every reason to believe she was, he would be selected to contest the seat in the next elections. He had had a good interview – staying calm even for the inevitable questions on his sexuality. He began to have sympathy with Clarissa’s generation who had faced constant ‘Who will look after the children’ questions at interview. 

 

The last time he was here, he had been the Golden boy – new to politics but with impressive support. Now, apart from Clarissa (who admittedly was still impressive) he was on his own. If selected, getting elected would be an uphill battle.

 

Arthur smoothed down a crease in his Saville Row suit. He noted a dog hair on the cloth and gave an inward smile just as the door opened. Clarissa called him in. 

 

_________________________________ 

There had been good days and bad days. 

 

The day after they had driven back from London was a good day. Most of the day was spent in bed – sleeping, actually, and both of them were slightly surprised that firstly this happened and secondly that this counted as a good day. 

 

“Remember when we used to meet up for weekends before...” Merlin said in one of their brief ‘awake’ periods. “We didn’t want to sleep at all – too much to do” 

“I used to dream about sleeping with you beside me” Arthur said reflectively. “I wanted the luxury of not needing to do anything else” 

 

Merlin squirmed around in his arms to look at Arthur’s face. “You too?” he said and smiled. “Are we clichés?” he asked “But I don’t really mind” He snuggled closer wrapping his long legs around Arthur’s. They had even talked over their sleeping issues and what they both wanted – Merlin explaining fully his fear of waking Arthur and Arthur pointing out that he did not sleep without Merlin close. In the process, they were surprised that each did not automatically know what the other intended. 

 

“We need a code” Merlin said “Like Doonshee. At the college, we had a word that meant help me and ask no questions” Arthur remembered Calum talking about it but said nothing. 

 

“We need something to say when things hurt or we don’t understand or we need something explained” Merlin went on. 

 

“How about asking” Arthur said . Merlin huffed at him. 

 

“Like that is going to happen” Merlin said “We’re really good at the not saying things thing. I worry and you go broody and...” he threw his arm up to emphasise what he was saying and discovered that talking with your hands and lying in bed didn’t go well together. It took a while to stop Arthur’s nose bleed and to change anything that had been blood splattered. As Arthur sat enthroned in an armchair, head back and cotton balls up his nose, Merlin grovelled both literally and metaphorically, groping for discarded cotton wool and apologising profusely for causing the mess. 

 

“Tho” said Arthur “Thith word you wanted” Merlin looked up from where he was loading discarded cotton balls into a bin bag and made a non committal noise. “Could I use it to thop you saying thorry?” 

 

“What?” Merlin looked confused as he retrieved the last bloodstained cotton ball which had somehow mysteriously ended up under the chair. 

 

“I hade it when you keep thaying thorry” Arthur said “I know you didn’t plan to hith me and you know I know tho thop thaying thorry” 

 

“Sorry” said Merlin and winced as Arthur sighed. “Waterfall” Merlin said “That’s my word” 

 

He scooted closer so that he was kneeling between Arthur’s knees. “If we have a word, mine is waterfall” he went on. Arthur raised his eyebrows. “Because when I saw you fall at the waterfall in Doonshee, that was when I knew what I felt wasn’t a summer thing – it was real and I” Merlin choked off as Arthur cupped his chin in his hand and pulled him close for a kiss. 

 

“Ew, No! Yuk!” Merlin exclaimed at the first brush of lips. “Definitely not into vampire kisses” Merlin gave mischievous grin. “But I could kiss other places” He moved his lips to Arthur’s neck and chest and Arthur eyes lit up. Arthur’s nipples were not particularly sensitive but for some reason his inner arm was. Merlin had found it hilarious when he discovered it, stating that only Arthur could have sexy elbows. Now he went about exploring. He looked up to see Arthur, head back looking thoroughly debauched. The erotic effect was marred by the still obvious cotton wool stuffed up his nose and Merlin could prevent a giggle as he moved even lower. 

 

Later, when they had cleaned up (again) they decided to eat out. In itself this was a big deal but their pub grub in the Inn was uneventful. They came back to the house in the late afternoon with spring sunshine dappling the ground. Merlin went out to the garden and dragged Arthur with him. 

 

“Look at the daffodils” Merlin said . The tall spikes were just beginning to form buds. “When we first came here the daffodils were fading. Almost a year”. His hand found Arthur’s and clutched tightly. “Thank you” he said “Thank you for making our home” 

 

Arthur felt his throat tighten. A year. And after that year he was lost, broken and almost in despair. But as he watched the thin spikes of the daffodils push proudly into the last of the sunlight, Merlin’s hand in his own, Arthur felt a spark of unaccustomed hope form within him. 

 

That was a good day. 

 

 

There were bad days. The second day Merlin returned to work was one. On the first day back, Arthur had got up with Merlin and spent the morning checking emails and catching up with local news online. Later in the day he tracked down a vet and arranged an appointment and drove to the nearby town to find a pet shop, returning with dog beds, toys and sacks of food. 

 

He met Clarissa on his errands and she had been happy to see him out and busy. 

 

“The selection meeting is at the end of the month” she reminded him. “I expect you there” He had made affirmative noises but did not engage in conversation. It was a big thing to be shopping. 

 

But the next day Arthur was left with nothing else to do. When Merlin left, Arthur returned to bed and as he lay awake, doubts returned to haunt him. 

 

How could he take on a new career in politics? He would fail – be a laughing stock. Or worse, succeed and freeze up like today, be filled with doubts, unable to decide anything. 

And a dog? How could he be responsible for an animal when he could not take care of himself? The dog would starve with him looking after it. 

Merlin was proof – Merlin was tired and stressed, and Arthur had done that. 

 

He was determined to call Clarissa and say he would not be seeking selection, to contact Battersea and tell them he could not possibly take on the responsibility of a dog. 

 

Only the inertia that came with the darkest days prevented him from making the calls. 

 

Arthur lay, staring at the ceiling and seeing only the ceiling as the day passed. 

 

It was only as the setting sun sent brief rays into the room that he thought of Merlin’s return and stirred himself enough to dress. He hadn’t the will to feed himself but the thought of Merlin being hungry spurred him to the kitchen. There, faced with the prospect of making a decision, his faint resolution left him and he stared at the possibilities, taking out various ingredients and rejecting them. 

 

He was still there when Merlin came in. 

 

“I didn’t cook for you” Arthur said as Merlin opened the door. “I can’t even do that right” 

 

Merlin looked at him, taking in the unkempt appearance and opened his arms. “Oh love” he said wrapping his arms around Arthur “I’ve had a day too. Can we just go to bed?” his stomach growled. “Okay, can we get a sandwich and go to bed” 

 

Later, in bed, they whispered their insecurities to each other and to the dark. Arthur retold the doubts that had strangled his thoughts for the day. Merlin didn’t laugh or scoff at him. 

 

“I honestly don’t know how we’ll manage with a dog” Merlin said “But I know we’ll try and I know you won’t hurt him” he felt Arthur tense beside him. “No, you won’t, and no, you don’t hurt me. You keep your promises, Arthur, no matter what and I have confidence in that. And maybe you will have bad days in politics. If you do we’ll deal – and to hell with people and their opinions, if you need help you are getting it” Merlin sounded fierce though sleepy, and Arthur felt a warmth bite at the chill in his heart. Merlin said ‘we’. He was not alone. 

 

But it was still not a good day. 

 

 

A better day came at the weekend. Calum called from London. 

 

“I’m a lonely paddy in the big city” Calum said “Can you guys take me in for a bit?” Surprised that Calum would ever admit to being lonely they readily agreed – a little guilty that this was his first visit. 

 

Arthur picked him up from the train. Since his bad day, Arthur had made a point of getting up early every day. He had worked through the boxes of files in the attic and re-acquainted himself with the workings of local politics, even if it was more than a year out of date. As a minister he had left the local details to his secretary (and Martin’s betrayal still stung), now he resolved to work at the issues that mattered on a small scale. 

 

That work had helped his mood – a little – so he was relaxed when he met Calum. Calum was in his usual upbeat mood. 

 

“You guys really did pick the back of beyond to live in” he commented as they drove through Abbotsmead. 

 

“Compared to Doonshee this is a metropolis” Arthur said defensively. Calum laughed. 

 

“Hey, I thought Doonshee was the backend of nowhere too so don’t get your knickers in a twist. But you and Mez are city guys. How do you fit into The Archers? What do you do all day?” 

 

Arthur chuckled that Calum had even heard of The Archers but he found it harder to say what they did. This became more obvious when Calum made it clear he wanted to go out that evening. Merlin and Arthur looked at each other when he mentioned it. 

 

“So do you have a local then? Favourite eatery? Friendly pub?” Calum was horrified by their silence. 

 

“We have been to the Inn” Arthur ventured, so a little while later they all walked to the Inn. 

 

Calum was a hit. He introduced himself to the barman/owner, refused a Guinness while insisting on choosing a local beer. 

 

The barman looked interested and there followed a discussion of local beers and a tasting session that lasted for the evening. The conversation turned to the relative merits of soccer and rugby, a deep and involved discussion on Eurozone politics and the importance of dessert in any meal. Merlin and Arthur joined in where necessary but they merely followed Calum’s lead. 

 

On the way back Calum commented on how friendly the town was and both Merlin and Arthur stared at him. 

 

“What?” he said “It is. You just have to be friendly back to see it” 

 

Later, on their own, Merlin talked about it. “I could never do that” he said “I could never talk to strangers like that” 

 

“I could” Arthur reflected. “But it would be fake. I would be watching and learning and saying what people want me to say. But Calum is a natural. Like you.” 

 

Merlin denied it as he pottered around their room. “I don’t do well with people I don’t know” Merlin said. 

 

Arthur thought about it and sighed “I brought you to a place filled with people you don’t know, where you have no friends” 

 

“I will, in time” Merlin said without much conviction. “And so will you” 

 

“I don’t have friends” Arthur said. “I have contacts” . 

 

Merlin looked at him with horror. “Don’t say that Arthur – you have friends – Lionel, Elliot...” 

“Friendly contacts” Arthur interrupted. “I don’t mind” 

“Elena, Calum” Merlin insisted. 

“They were your friends. They adopted me” 

Merlin gave up his pretend tidying and wrapped Arthur in a hug. “You have to believe you have friends whether you like it or not” he said firmly. “And Calum is right – we haven’t given this place a chance – not really. We have been caught up in our own story – we need to get out and see people - talk to people. Even if we don’t have Calum’s charm” 

 

It had been a thought provoking day 

 

+==============  
Picking up Grumbles had been both good and bad. They had arranged another counselling session for that day, to save another journey to London and this time it was not easy. Arthur came out feeling like his soul had been stripped of armour and Merlin was uncharacteristically quiet as they made their way back to Battersea. 

 

Their feelings were put aside when they went in and finalised the adoption. As they finished the paperwork an assistant fetched Grumbles. 

 

“See, he’s all packed” she remarked as she led him in. In his mouth Grumbles was carrying Arthur’s jacket – unrecognisable now. “He won’t leave his kennel without it” she said. “Carries it every time we exercise him and sleeps on it every night” 

 

Merlin was convinced Grumbles looked embarrassed as she spoke. Grumbles was microchipped – and Arthur winced as the needle went in though Grumbles did not move, and they were presented with documents of ownership. After that they were given dog food and lead. 

 

“We have stuff” Merlin protested but Arthur hand waved him away and Merlin thought with slight panic of the small mountain of dog accessories Arthur had already bought. He sighed, picked up the bag of dog food and followed Arthur and Grumbles to the car. 

 

By the time they reached Belinda he was limping. Arthur turned just before they got to the car and noticed. “Give me that!” He said sharply, taking the bag. “You should have said” 

 

“You two were bonding” Merlin joked and he was telling the truth. It had been entertaining to watch as Arthur walked with Grumbles beside him. The dog stuck to his side so carefully the lead was loose and almost unnecessary. Arthur kept glancing down at the slim dog lopping by his side and Merlin’s heart warmed at the look on Arthur’s face. It was worth the painful back and slight limp. 

 

In the car there was a problem. Taking advice (from the internet) Merlin had folded down the back seats to provide room for Grumbles. He made sure the jacket (smelly and slightly damp) was carefully put in first and then encouraged Grumbles in. Grumbles looked at the jacket, looked at Merlin and if anything, stood even closer to Arthur. It took some cajoling on Arthur’s part before he agreed to jump in and even then he stood, tense and stiff as they drove off. 

 

As they drove out of London Grumbles whimpered and Merlin swore that Arthur whimpered in sympathy. Finally Arthur had enough. He ordered Merlin to pull in and, taking Grumbles from the back he sat in the next row of seats, tossing the dog food on to the floor. 

 

“”Ok, now we can go” Arthur said imperiously as Grumbles settled beside him, head resting on Arthur’s knee. Merlin looked in the rear view mirror and smiled. 

 

When they reached Abbotsmead, Merlin pulled up to the front door. He prepared to take the bag of dog food but Arthur gently pushed him aside. 

 

“Not for you” he said as he hefted the weight and gave Grumbles’ lead to Merlin “Take care of him”. 

 

Arthur, arms full of dogfood, plunged on ahead towards the kitchen. Merlin came behind with Grumbles, who looked bemused. 

 

The tall dog sat down suddenly just inside the door and stared at Arthur’s disappearing figure. Merlin gently touched Grumbles’ head and was greeted with a worried look. 

 

“I know” Merlin said softly “It’s all a bit much - but it’s okay. We belong with him and it really is okay. You’ll get used to it” Grumbles grumbled and Merlin took a step, jerking his head for the dog to follow. “This is home” Merlin said as Arthur called from the kitchen. 

 

Grumbles first view of the garden was a special moment. He had seen the courtyard but on the morning after his arrival Arthur took him up the steps to the driveway and garden. He stood by Arthur, quivering as he looked at the expanse of grass, with apple trees and still bare bushes. A quick glance up to check for permission was all he needed. At Arthur’s nod he bounded forward, sniffing every tree, lopping around the garden like a rabbit in rhapsody – and for a long-legged dog that looked hilarious. 

 

Arthur felt he wanted to cry as he watched Grumbles’ joy and a look at Merlin showed he felt the same. 

 

“You’ve done a good thing, Arthur Pendragon” Merlin murmured, taking Arthur’s hand. “A really good thing” 

 

Just then Grumbles discovered the joys of digging and Merlin’s tone changed. “Oi! Hang one that’s my...” he ran up the steps after Grumbles who saw in this a fine chance for a game. Arthur laughed ‘til he cried, doubled over with mirth. 

 

That was a good day. 

 

Grumbles settled in quickly. Arthur had been over excited when it came to shopping so there were enough dog beds for almost every room. The one in the kitchen was placed close to the range and Grumbles quickly approved of it, placing his jacket carefully inside. There was also a bed in Arthur’s study which Grumbles could be persuaded to use if Arthur insisted. In the sitting room, Grumbles took a look at the dog bed and very obviously climbed on to the couch. Despite Merlin’s protests that dogs should not be on the furniture (which were defeated by puppy eyes from Arthur and knowing eyes from Grumbles) this became his place. Merlin however did win one battle. 

Coming in one evening he found Grumbles snuggled into Arthur, head on his knee. Merlin stood at the end of the couch. 

“No” he said firmly “Not happening. That is my spot and I am not giving it up. Not for all the puppy eyes in the world!” 

Grumbles eventually vacated the position - grumbling loudly as he did so. He went over to the other couch in the room and with a long suffering sigh stretched out his long body on its full length. 

“He’ll be lonely” Arthur said as Merlin settled in to his accustomed place at Arthur’s side. 

“I’m not backing down” Merlin said “You’re mine and he knows it” 

 

Merlin didn’t back down over one other room also. 

“No, Arthur, he can not have a bed on our room” Merlin was definite and no matter what Arthur pleaded, he would not concede. 

 

“Think of what we do in that room” Merlin said reasonably “Do you really want him to watch?” 

 

Arthur sighed and agreed “But if he whimpers, I’ll have to go to him” He added. 

 

“If you leave our bed I will whimper” Merlin said firmly. 

 

Arthur gave Grumbles a shirt to make up for it. 

 

Two days before the selection committee meeting Arthur met with Clarissa. He brought Grumbles. Despite the initial car debacle, it turned out that Grumbles quite liked the car. More specifically, he liked sitting upright in the front seat of Arthur’s Alfa. Arthur was sure he got funny looks as he drove though the village but strangely it did not bother him. The sight of Grumbles, grinning as they sped along drove out any dark feelings. 

 

Clarissa was not impressed. 

“What is this?” she said dismissively when he arrived. 

 

“I think I mentioned getting a dog” Arthur said noncommittally. 

 

“I thought you meant a Labrador, or a retriever or any other breed with an name – any breed in fact! That looks as if he should be at home with a piece of string as a collar!” 

 

Grumbles in fact had a specially shaped lurcher collar as well as (padded) harness for walking. Arthur was looking into getting him a coat but the weather was mild and he had not got one yet. Grumbles looked at Clarissa with all the scorn of a well loved dog. 

 

“Grumbles doesn’t need your approval” Arthur mumbled. 

 

“What did you call him” Clarissa said incredulously “Really, Arthur, you have a dog straight out of a Dickens novel, with a name out of Enid Blyton. How do you expect to be elected?” 

 

“Clarissa – I am openly gay, and living with my partner in one of the most traditional constituencies in England. I hardly think the name of my dog is going to make a difference to my chances!” 

 

Clarissa smiled suddenly. “Well Done Pendragon!” she said. “You finally said it. Now that you know what we are facing we can really begin to plan.” Grumbles barked deeply and Clarissa looked scandalised. “Don’t let him do that with the Chairman of the committee, the poor man is nervous enough as it is!” 

 

________________________________________ 

And here he was a week later, complete with dog hairs on his expensive suit, waiting to find out his fate. The door opened.


	16. Scenes from life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly fluff..

HEADLINE: 

PENDRAGON TO RUN AGAIN. 

Arthur Pendragon, former MP has been selected as his party’s candidate in the next election. Pendragon, who resigned his seat in the midst of a controversy.... 

 

//////////////////////////////////////

 

Arthur stood at the door of the bedroom and gaped. Merlin, tired after three night shifts, was still in bed, fast asleep in his usual starfish configuration. Beside him, stretched out in a strangely similar pose, was Grumbles. 

 

In the bedroom.  
Their Bedroom.  
From which Grumbles had been banned. 

 

In the bed. 

With Merlin. 

 

Merlin stirred and Grumbles complained about it. Arthur coughed loudly. 

 

“Wassit?” Merlin mumbled, half opening one eye. 

 

“I have been betrayed!” Arthur said dramatically. 

 

“Um, it’s not what it looks like?” Merlin recited as he blinked sleepily at Arthur. 

 

“It looks like, having insisted that Grumbles was not to allowed in our bedroom, you have been sneakily letting him have cuddles” 

 

Merlin opened both eyes and nudged Grumbles. 

 

“Sorry mate, we’ve been rumbled – time to face the music” 

 

“Traitor” Arthur growled and Grumbles complained at the noise. 

 

“Oh Shush, both of you” said Merlin. “He followed me up here and I was too tired to bring him down. You can do it now you’re here” 

 

Arthur had to concede that that was plausible. Grumbles had an ambivalent relationship with stairs. He was fine going up, but after his fist experience of going down, during which his back legs tried to overtake his front ones, he tended to sit on the top step and whimper until someone came. 

 

The first time it happened Arthur carried him down, which resulted in Merlin shouting at him. 

 

“Are you crazy, you could have fallen and killed yourself” Merlin yelled. Grumbles laid his ears flat and slunk away towards his bed in the kitchen, where he buried himself under his jacket (and newly acquired shirt). 

 

“Now, look, you’ve upset him” Arthur said crossly. 

 

“And you dying would upset me” Merlin snapped. 

 

Arthur looked at the expanse of stairs above him. “We could get a chair lift” He murmured to himself. Merlin rolled his eyes. 

 

Eventually Arthur worked out a coaxing system that involved Grumbles doing a sort of sideways shuffle from step to step, encouraged by dog biscuits and lots of soft words. Merlin was not particularly good at the encouragement part and if Grumbles knew Arthur was in the house he would sit at the top of the stairs and look pointedly at Merlin until he went and got Arthur to help him down. 

 

Merlin wanted to be annoyed at Arthur’s indulgence but he remembered Arthur’s patience when he had practically carried Merlin up and down the stairs when they had first moved in and the annoyance was softened. 

 

Right now, Grumbles jumped off the bed, leisurely stretched first his front paws and then his back and then, looking back, at Arthur, trotted to the top of the stairs. 

 

“See? He was waiting for you” Merlin said “And I’m going back to sleep” He snuggled deeper into the duvet. 

 

Arthur sat at the side of the bed and ran his fingers through Merlin’s hair. Merlin oozed into the touch. 

 

“Mmmm?” he said “You could join me when you’ve brought him down” 

 

“Tempting though that is” Arthur said “You need to change schedule, you won’t sleep tonight if you sleep all day, so” He pulled the duvet down “Time to get up” 

 

Merlin groaned and muttered something about cruel and unusual punishment. Arthur pressed a kiss to his neck and admired his lean torso as he did so. Merlin was more solid then the willowy young man he had been in Doonshee but he would never be anything other than lean. For a moment Arthur was tempted to stay but a single booming bark from the landing broke the thought.

“His majesty is calling for his servant” Merlin laughed “Better go to him before he gets cross” 

 

“I’ll make you brunch if you get up” Arthur said as he moved to the door. Merlin laughed again. 

 

“Is that the equivalent of dog biscuits?” he said as he levered himself up. “Okay, I’m awake, do your duty” he waved his hand in dismissal and Arthur went to serve as Grumbles stair assistant, wondering how his life came to this. 

 

When Merlin came downstairs a while later, he looked more awake. Dropping a kiss on the top of Arthur’s head he sat down at the table and looked expectantly at his empty plate. 

 

“You promised food” he said “Did I get dressed under false pretences?” 

 

Arthur, busy with pans, called over “Nearly ready” 

 

Merlin looked at Grumbles, sprawled in his dog bed. “I bet you got fed” he murmured. 

 

Arthur unceremoniously plonked a plate in front of him, “Here,” he said “Any more whining and I take it back. You’re in disgrace for breaking your own rules” 

Merlin picked up his knife and fork and grinned. “Exceptions” he said “Rules have to have exceptions” Grumbles harrumphed his agreement and turned around in his bed, sprawling his long legs outside. 

 

“So,”continued Merlin “where did you go this morning?” I know you told me, but...” he waved his fork dismissively at the idea that he might remember. 

 

Arthur sat down at the table “Why do I bother telling you anything” he complained. “It was a business backers breakfast” 

 

Merlin gave him a raised eyebrow look “An alliterative fundraiser – and yes I stayed awake in English lessons, don’t look so surprised. How did it go?” 

Arthur told him. 

 

/////////////////////  
In the beginning it had been quite strained. 

Of the meetings Clarissa had arranged in the last few months, this was the most important. Directly and indirectly these men (and they were all men – Arthur could se Clarissa’s issues) controlled party funding in the area. If he were to have any chance of a campaign, he needed their support. And he had to get it over a hybrid breakfast buffet. Noone, thought Arthur should have to defend their fate over soggy croissants and greasy sausages. 

 

As a buffet it was all about mixing and mingling, something that was natural to Arthur. But this difficult. A mix of scorn and confusion acted as a veneer over the interactions of the men present. They did not know how to talk to him. 

 

“I suppose you’ll be supporting all this marriage malarkey” said one portly businessman, who mustard stained moustache distracted Arthur terribly. “I expect we’ll see you parading down the road in a pink feather boa at one of these pride things” 

 

Arthur restrained the inclination to stuff the man’s face with continental pastries and gave a faint smile. “I’ve been told that pink isn’t my colour” he said instead, “and the only time I had anything to do with a feather boa was at a varsity Rag, and I was sneezing feathers for hours” 

 

“Oh yes!!” said another portly businessman, Tweedledum to the mustard moustached Tweedledee, “ I remember, you were Up with my son, he told me about that Rag – jolly good caper!” 

 

“Your son?” Arthur said politely, trying to remember the man’s name. Clarissa had made him do homework, but she had not supplied photographs, and even if she had, they were all so alike it wouldn’t have helped. 

 

“Geoffrey Bowden” said the man and Arthur tried to figure out was that his name or his son’s. A sudden recollection of a face saved him. 

 

“Dum Dum!” exclaimed Arthur 

 

“He wasn’t the smartest” murmured Tweedledum 

 

“Nonsense” said Arthur “He was smarter than any of us. Got a First I recall. We called him Dum Dum because in a rugger match, when we pointed him at the opposition, he exploded in every direction. We were not very politically correct those days. Good man to have in a game, but you had to keep your wits about you. How is Dum Dum these days. We lost touch after Uni” 

 

Tweedledum filled him in while Tweedldee filled his stomach. When the conversation lulled. Tweedledee turned to Arthur. “I’d forgotten you played rugby” he said “What do you think of English lineout?” 

 

Arthur fought to bring up snatches of discussions with Calum “ The scrum needs work” he said “But the forwards are fast. Get the ball to them and there’s good try options” 

 

“That’s what I say” Tweedledee said delightedly and the talk turned to rugby and its details. 

 

Later, when the last business man had left Arthur stood, too full of coffee fuelled adrenaline to sit down. 

 

“You did well” Clarissa said, “We’ll be funded” 

 

“It’s harder than I remember” Arthur said reflectively. 

 

“Oh for God’s sake, you’ve only been out of it for a year. The world hasn’t changed, Arthur and neither have you. You need to remind people of that and stop being a victim.” 

 

“I wouldn’t recommend you take up inspirational speaking” Arthur said dryly, but he did feel that he had accomplished something – got over a hurdle he had been dreading. 

 

He told Merlin all this as they sat at the kitchen table. 

///////////// 

“You know we have a dining room” Merlin said suddenly, in a segue that would have made Arthur confused had he not become accustomed to mental leaps. “We hardly use it – maybe we should start. Have Clarissa over – and get her to arrange a guest list. Arthur was startled. 

 

“I thought you didn’t want to be part of the politics thing” he said. Merlin gave a wry grin. 

 

“I don’t - but this is your home, you should be able to use it to help you” 

Arthur shook his head. It was Merlin’s home too and he did not want Merlin to feel uncomfortable. “We’ll talk about it later” he said. “Besides, my cooking is not up to guests” 

 

“I don’t know,” Merlin said, finishing the last morsel on his plate. “I think your cooking is fairly okay” He laughed as Arthur glared at him. “Now, more importantly, what was it you did with that feather boa?....” 

 

/////////////////

 

Other meetings did not go as well and one bruising encounter that left Arthur feeling like giving up entirely. He parked the Alfa at the back of the house and made his way to the courtyard and the kitchen door. A booming bark told him that Grumbles had heard the car and he braced himself for an enthusiastic welcome. Since Grumbles had come to trust that he was staying, his reserve had gone and the dog occasionally allowed himself to act like a puppy. Greetings, therefore had become boisterous. Secretly, Arthur liked it (and he thought Grumbles knew it). It was nice to be welcomed home so uninhibitedly – though to be fair, there had been occasions when Merlin also jumped into his arms. 

 

Despite his depressing meeting, the sound of Grumbles rushing through the shrubbery made Arthur smile. His smile changed to shock when what burst out of the rhododendron was a hellhound, red and dripping. 

 

“Grumbles?” Arthur asked fearfully but quickly realised the red was mud not blood. His concern switched to his suit – which was in imminent danger of becoming a mud casualty. “What the... No! Down!” Arthur attempted to defend his clothing but all the times he had encouraged Grumbles to jump to say ‘hello’ defeated him and he watched in dismay as yet another suit bit the canine dust – or in this case, mud. “MERLIN!” Arthur called and was relieved to hear Merlin answer from the courtyard. 

“Arthur! I didn’t expect you yet. How did the meeting go?” Merlin emerged around a corner, sounding perfectly normal but looking like a the creature from the (red) lagoon. Arthur gaped at the mud covered apparition before him. 

 

“It didn’t go well did it? I can tell. I just... If you wait a wee minute or so....” 

 

Arthur looked incredulously at Merlin and wondered if he had somehow switched universes. Did Merlin not notice that he was dripping with mud, hair sticking upright and his face so smeared that only his eyes and mouth were clearly visible? 

 

“MERLIN – WHAT THE...” Arthur gave up using words and gestured widely at the duo in front of him. 

 

“Oh right, yeah, this” Merlin said picking at his thickly coated hoodie. “About that... um... did you know that there is a really damp patch right at the back of the garden, behind the fruit bushes?” Merlin didn’t wait for a reply. “No, well, neither did I but Grumbles found it and well...” He waved his arms expressively to encompass the whole general messiness. 

 

“That explains him, Merlin” Arthur said “not...” He too gestured, just as emphatically at Merlin’s muditude. 

 

“Well, I may have sorta fallen a wee bit...” Merlin looked embarrassed and for a moment Arthur felt superior, until his brain kicked in and he processed what had been said. 

 

“You fell? Are you hurt?” Arthur knew Merlin hated him fussing but he couldn’t help. 

 

“Just my dignity” Merlin said lightly, “It took me a wee while to get back up and that crazy dog thought it was a game and, well” He shrugged, and a piece of mud slid of his shoulder and fell to the paved ground with an un-dramatic splosh. Both them followed it with their eyes and Grumbles moved in to investigate, sniffing dubiously before huffing loudly and retiring to the corner of the courtyard. He left a trail of muddy paw prints in his wake. 

 

Arthur raised his eyes to find Merin looking at him. “It’s okay. I’m getting the hose. He’ll be clean in a jiffy” 

 

Arthur stared at him with horror. “You’re not using a hose on my dog!” he said in his most indignant voice. Merlin winced. 

 

“What do you want me to do then” he said. Arthur recognised the tone. It was the ‘Must Humour Arthur’ tone that Merlin used when he thought Arthur was being – well- Arthur. 

 

“How are You intending to take off the mud” Arthur said and was rewarded with a startled look. Repressing the sense of achievement at surprising Merlin at all, Arthur raised an eyebrow and waited. 

“Um. Shower?” said Merlin, wide-eyed and curious. 

 

“Right. So Grumbles will take the bath” Arthur said firmly. 

 

Merlin snorted. “You want to take him upstairs?” he said . Arthur ignored him. 

“Come Grumbles” he said striding towards the kitchen door. Grumbles raised his head – and – totally out of character – followed him. 

Merlin sighed and brought up the rear. 

 

It was not a triumphal procession. Arthur led, as was fitting, though his mud-besmeared suit did not add to the gravitas of the situation. Grumbles was next, shaking each paw with every step and looking thoroughly depressed. Merlin brought up the rear – doing his best to levitate so as not to leave foot prints. He failed. 

 

At the top of the stairs, Arthur headed for the bathroom. Merlin hesitated 

 

“Um... I think I just....” he said before darting off towards the guest bedroom with en suite. 

 

Arthur may have cursed a little but he did so inwardly and only muttered “Traitor” under his breath, to Grumbles’ quizzical look. “It’s you and me then” he said to Grumbles and walked into the main bathroom. Grumbles followed him, grumbling. 

 

Fifteen minutes later Arthur had poured warm water (carefully elbow tested) into the bath, striped off his suit (in a vain attempt to protect what was left) and discovered that Grumbles had somehow learned to magically glue his paws to the floor. 

 

“Come on” he said, pushing vainly at the dog, who suddenly weighed as much as a elephant, “It’s warm water, I promise” 

 

Grumbles was having none of it. He remained solidly stuck to the floor. When Arthur managed to lift one paw, the others seemed to gain extra strength. When Arthur pushed , Grumbles slid along the tiles and Arthur would swear he left gouge marks in his wake. 

 

By the time Merlin returned, clean and suitably dressed, both Arthur and Grumbles were growling. 

 

“Why don’t you try the shower?” Merlin suggested reasonably. Arthur hated the reasonableness of it, but it worked. But only because Arthur had gone in first. Grumbles sniffed carefully, discovered there was no water and agreed, reluctantly to follow Arthur. 

 

When the water was turned on it was another matter. Merlin sat on the toilet lid, helpless with laughter as he saw Grumbles make increasingly ambitious efforts to escape the shower enclosure. At one stage Merlin could see the tip of his nose over the top of the cubicle and Merlin wondered, with slight anxiety for Arthur’s well-being, how the dog had climbed that high. Every so often desperate features would appear, mashed on the glass walls – a furry face, a scraping paw, a frantic hand. All through it, Arthur kept up a stream of unparliamentary language and Grumbles occasionally resorted to a low but miserable howl. 

 

When finally they both emerged from the shower, they both glared at the still chuckling Merlin. 

 

“You may well laugh” Arthur said sternly, trying to exude authority while wearing a dripping wet shirt, underpants and socks. (It was the socks that started Merlin’s giggles afresh) “But since I bathed the dog, you get to clean the bathroom” 

 

At that moment Grumbles began the mysterious exercise that involved every part of his body moving in a different direction to every other part. In the process he cast off more water than could possibly have been used on him. Merlin, leapt back much too late. 

 

“Oh Fuck!” a re-drenched Merlin exclaimed. Arthur smirked. Merlin looked at the mud encrusted room and his grin narrowed. “Fine” he said “But you strip off and back in the shower first” 

 

Arthur was startled “There’s no time for that” Arthur protested “And besides – pas devant le chien” That caused a snort from Merlin. 

 

“Arthur I love you – but really, I am not going to follow you into that shower” Merlin said seriously, but with a glint in his eye. “If I’m going to clean the house, you are not walking outside this room dripping mud” 

 

Arthur sighed. “I’m not stripping – I mean – not in front of...” He gestured towards Grumbles, who was preparing to shake again. 

 

Merlin gave him an ‘oh really?’ look and grabbed some towels. “I’ll cover his eyes” he said sardonically as he proceeded to wrap Grumbles in a large bath towel. “Go on!” 

 

Merlin didn’t cover his own eyes. 

 

Arthur re-entered the shower but a hoarse shout a few moments later told Merlin that between them they had used up all the hot water. Merlin grinned a little heartlessly as he finally succeeded in wrapping Grumbles like an exceedingly noisy roll. Arthur stalked out, with his own strategic towel being, well, strategic. 

 

“I am taking him out of here” Arthur stated majestically “And if I hear one comment about carrying him....” Merlin refrained from comment and both of them ignored how Grumbles had no problem being carried now that the whole procedure was over. Arthur moved out, back rigid, looking like a Greek servant to an Egyptian Mummy. Merlin worked hard not to laugh as Arthur passed him, giving him a ‘dare you’ look. When Arthur left, Merlin collapsed into silent gurgles of laughter, which dissolved when he looked around again at the mud streaked bathroom. 

 

When Merlin joined them downstairs, some time and quite a lot of bathroom cleaner later, he found them both in the sitting room. Arthur, now dressed, was slumped in the corner of the couch while Grumbles was sprawled out on what had become ‘His’ couch. Merlin looked at them, then did a double take. 

“Oh MY GOD! Arthur! He’s a poodle” he exclaimed. Grumbles’ usual slightly curly coat was a mass of frizz. He looked at Merlin from beneath inordinately bushy eyebrows and had the grace to look embarrassed. 

 

Arthur opened one eye. “It seems hairdryers have that effect” he said “I am assuming it will get back to normal tomorrow -“ 

 

“If not you’ll have to do it again” Merlin interrupted. Both Arthur’s eyes flew open. 

 

“Never again” he said emphatically “Never. Ever. Again. And we never speak of it” Grumbles growled his assent and Merlin smiled as he lay into his accustomed place under Arthur’s arm. 

 

“So. Bad Meeting?” he said. 

 

“Seeing your family encased in mud makes one forget” Arthur said drily. 

 

Merlin smiled to himself and pulled Arthur’s arm around him. They were family.


	17. View from the gallery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of documents showing a year in the lives of our characters from outside views

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Long delay because I came to realise the story was becoming bogged down in minutiae and it would take forever to get out. I hit a literary road bump and got stuck. So I scrapped two chapters (hence the delay) while I tried to figure out how to move on. This chapter is a bridge. It gives brief glances at a year from when Arthur was selected (in March) to May the following year. As such there is little or no character development though there are points that will be followed up as the story progresses. The format is a series of emails, letters etc. some of which are deliberately obscure. 
> 
> I apologise in advance

Views from the Gallery 

////////////////////////////////////

Extract: email from Elena to Calum

“Hi Cal, saw your update on Facebook. Congrats on promotion. Should have known you’d have the gift of the gab. 

Did you know I had the dynamic duo staying here in Dublin for a bit? I should say trio – the dog goes everywhere with them. Have you seen their dog? Seriously, it’s huge. Not Elephant in Lilliput huge but dammed big all the same. And it growls all the time. I could imagine why Arthur, -too-grand-even-for-designer-labels would agree to a dog like that but then I got it. I was in the car and I looked in the rearview mirror and Merlin was in the back seat looking at out the window and the dog was beside him looking out the other side - . Oh, yeah, seems the dog has claustrophobia and has to look out the window – and yeah I know I’m rambling but I’ve had two glasses of wine and I am at a key board on a Friday night – get over it. 

ANYWAY – I was looking at the pair, Merlin and the dog and then they both turned and gave identical looks. I really couldn’t decide if it was cute or creepy as fuck but it was obvious why Arthur fell for the mutt. I just hope Merlin never cops on. 

So why were they in Dublin I hear you ask? Actually I hear you crying in frustration but I am still sipping my wine in my lonely apartment while my boyfriend saves the world so I have no pity. And you are probably reading this on the way to work on Monday morning anyway. 

So, it turns out that travelling by air to Donegal is not the most comfortable experience for claustrophobic mongrels – a thought which occurred to Arthur seconds before he booked their flights. So they took the ferry. Did you know Arthur could get seasick? No? Neither did he. When he arrived he was whey faced. Merlin wasn’t much better but I think that from having the pair of them whining at him. 

I had intended to put them up in my apartment for the night before they drove north but somehow my nosey neighbour, Sheila the bitch got wind of the dog ( I don’t know how she does that - I think she has my apartment bugged -) and the whole block was papered with flyers reminding everyone of the no pets rule. So I sent Arthur and Merlin to my parents. 

 

Did you meet my parents? I can’t remember . I was a bit ... curious about how they’d take it – the parents I mean. Even the last time Val stayed over they put us in separate room and I had Arthur and Merlin warned in advance. But there was no problem. The folks were determined to show how 21st century they are and kept them together. My mother even asked me if she needed to change the colour scheme of the spare room. I said beige goes with every orientation. I think she was proud. 

 

Dinner was the best fun I’ve had in ages. Dad and Arthur got on like a house on fire – in that they talked about politics and disagreed about everything very firmly. I think they enjoyed it. Mum would interrupt with little “Now, Peter don’t you think...” interjections and Merlin chimed in once or twice Merlin dropped a “Really Arthur?” into the conversation. Mostly he just sent dagger looks at Arthur when he got too pointed in his arguments (my dad could take it). I got a few Merlin glares for feeding the dog under the table. Getting a death glare from Merlin is like being savaged by My Little Pony. You know you’re in trouble but it’s so darn cute you forget that. Stop gagging Calum. Merlin IS cute and you are just jealous. 

 

Anyway, they should be in Donegal by now. I waved them off and went to work. Do you miss Donegal? I know we were working then too but it felt like fun – like working was for fun and not for real life. Real life sucks – I want to be a kid again. But, when I see Arthur and Merlin, despite everything they have been through, I still believe in fairy-tales .... 

 

////////////////////////////////////////////

Extract of Letter from Brennan and Co. To Merlin Balinson. 

 

... As you have seen, the first part of the works has been completed and the old portion of the house is weather tight and secure. The second fix is under way in this part of the house. The builders are starting work on the extensions. As agreed, the bedroom wing will be built first.... 

////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Letter from Mrs Cora Balinson (Great Aunt to Merlin Balinson) 

 

Dear Merlin, 

I have received the China Shepherdess and it is a match to the shepherd. I must say it was very thoughtful of you to replace it. I know it was your dog who broke the original but not many young people these days would think to replace it. You and your young man are very mannerly. 

I do not know if youse are going to hell as the pastors say but I am ninety four and am likely to see God before you. I will put in a good word for you both if you like. Your Arthur is very charming and has good taste in Meissen figurines ...

 

////////////////////////////////////// 

 

Extract from Email to Merlin from Mum

I popped in to see Auntie Cora the other day. I was very surprised that she invited you and Arthur over when you were in Belfast. It took twenty five years before she spoke to Cousin Billy after his divorce and she only tolerated you after she knew about everything on account of my cakes and needing someone at Christmas. But she seems to have taken a shine to Arthur. She blamed you not him for letting the dog smash the wee statue (awful thing I always thought) – and really Merlin, what were you thinking? Cora’s place is so full of knick- knacks a moth would have to fly sideways to get through them and you bring a wee monster of a dog with a tail as long as his body? What did you expect? She thought Arthur was lovely though. If she wasn’t ninety-four, I’d say she has a crush. Especially since he replaced her statue. 

And Merlin, you need to talk to that man of yours about spending money. Auntie Cora never had a Meissen in her life. She got those statues on holiday in Portrush. But Arthur sent her an authentic Meissen, with documents to say it’s real? Documents? For a knick knack that will need dusting every day? I tell you boy, Cora will be boasting of it to all the neighbours. Ah, well, it was a nice thing to do. 

Now about that wee scheme you have.... 

 

/////////////////// 

 

Extract of letter from Clarissa Williams to Arthur 

 

If Merlin agrees, I do think the occasional dinner in your home would be a good way to woo the waverers. Show you in a domestic light and all that. Make sure the food and wine are good and plentiful and I will sort out the guest lists. George and I will come of course, to provide some stability.... 

 

//////////////////////////////////// 

 

Email # 1 from Millicent Towhead- Bowes to Cordelia Smythe-Headerington  
“So, Headers, you’ll never believe with whom I had dinner? And no, you don’t get to guess.  
Arthur Pendragon, that’s who.  
The Billionaire’s son – the one who used to be in the papers.  
Beat that in Sydney! 

 

Email #2 from Millicent Towhead- Bowes to Cordelia Smythe-Headerington – in reply to unseen mail

Yes, I know he is, Headers. I’m not dumb. Porky brought me. You remember Porky? Well he’s some sort of big wig in politics around here and he was invited chez Pendragon and I was his plus one. 

I was expecting a proper mansion – all nouveau riche and hideous but it was very ordinary – a rather plain house on a village High Street. I mean, I saw pictures of the country house once and this was not it seriously disappointing. And given the whole fuss and all the least I thought there’d be was some pink suede – but no, country chic – rather middle class and humdrum. 

The food was good though – and everyone was being very polite when Mrs. Somebody (I didn’t bother getting her name) asked the partner (who was really cute btw) as he was passing the pepper, was he the wife of the house. OMG. You should have heard the silence. Except for the really weird dog they had who seemed to be growling and it was a really awkward moment – even worse than when Katy McKenzie came back to school with THAT hair. 

But Arthur (he said “Call me Arthur” when we arrived – I am on first name terms with a billionaire!) just smiled at his partner (Morgan or Martin or something) and the two had this really cute moment and the partner said they would starve if Arthur hadn’t learned to cook and Arthur said that he had got caterers for dinner so that no one need worry and after that it was okay. Porky was really taken with Arthur. He says his politics are sound whatever that means but......

 

/////////////////////////

Extract of email from Bob Huggins (farmer) to his brother Joe 

.... I had a visitor today. Irish bloke in a big car. I’ve seen the car around a bit so I think he’s local. He drove up our lane bold as brass and when I said it was private property he said he knew and he wanted to talk to the farmer. Well, I put him straight as to who I was – three generations now on this farm and I won’t have no mistakes. 

He started talking then. He said that when the river rises, which might be once or twice a year, the road below gets blocked by floods for a day or so – more when it’s bad. Traffic is diverted to the Ashtown road. I said I knew that and what business was it of his. He said that that it was alright for ordinary traffic to take the long way out of town but that sometimes ambulances had to do it and that caused problems. He mentioned the Hayton’s baby and that was a sad case. “But” said he “You have farm lanes running into your farmyard from either direction and you can by-pass the floods. What if you let an ambulance come through? Even going slowly it was still save twenty –five minutes on the diversion” Took me by surprise it did. I said my lanes were not public roads but he said he would only be in emergencies and he would call before for permission. Seems he works for the ambulance service. He said to think about it so I am asking you, what do you think I should do? 

//////////////////////////////////////  
Extract from disciplinary memo sent to Merlin Balinson  
It has come to our attention that you have been conducting visits to premises in the locality.....

Please desist from these visits immediately or we will take further action up to and including suspension and termination of employment... 

//////////////////////////////////////////////

Contents of post-it note stuck to report submitted by Merlin Balinson to Ambulance control. 

“Suspend me if you wish but read this. Lives could depend on it” 

 

/////////////////////////////////////////// 

 

Extract from The Times 

GENERAL ELECTION IN MAY 

The Prime Minster today announced to the House of Commons the date of the General Election... 

////////////////////////////////////////////  
From Baynard and Baynard Letting agents to Merlin 

Dear Mr. Balinson. 

I wish to confirm that Apt. 4 Rowen Gardens has been reserved for you, pending receipt of the first month’s rent and a security deposit. I also confirm that this building does allow pets. 

 

///////////////////////////////////////

Text from Peter Maitland to William Cooper.

“Porky is definitely out. The perve has won him over completely so we are on our own. But the leaflet drop is a good start. 

///////////////////////////////////// 

EXTRACT FROM BIOGRAPHY OF ARTHUR PENDRAGON. 

 

“ The second election victory of Arthur Pendragon took most commentators by surprise. Trailing in the polls for most of the campaign, Pendragon was up against a sitting MP who had done a workmanlike job for the constituency and had a strong personal following in urban areas. Pendragon had, in his first victory, gained support from the more traditional rural areas and these voters were more likely to be hesitant about supporting a gay MP. In addition Pendragon had to face hostility within his own party. Although Clarissa Williams successfully staged a coups which gave her control of the Selection committee and therefore put Pendragon on the ballot paper, some traditional members of the party were still very reluctant to give their support. Indeed, evidence shows that some party members even acted to sabotage aspects of Pendragon’s campaign. 

 

Pendragon himself worked non-stop during the campaign. It has been documented that he visited every village and town in the constituency. Indeed, local anecdotes say that he visited every farm in the area, though they may be confusing him with his partner Merlin Balinson who spent much of the same period mapping alternate emergency routes in the local area. 

 

////////////////////////////////////

Advertisement in the County Chronicle 

Dog Sitter wanted. Must love dogs. Willingness to do light housework an advantage. Cooking skills a bonus. 

/////////////////////////////////

 

Text from Marlene to her Mum 

I GOT THE JOB! WOO HOO! 

I thought I hadn’t got it cos the interview was really stiff and then the dog came in and he is gorgeous Mum, just like our Roxie only on stilts and he sat beside me and sort of talked and then he put his head on my knee and Mr. Pendragon sighed and looked at Mr Balinson and he nodded and I have a job! 

///////////////////////////////

 

Letter received by Arthur Pendragon. 

I suppose I should congratulate you on your recent victory but I see no point. You would not believe it anyway. You always did follow your uncle’s career rather than mine. 

 

I shall be in London for a week or two – and I will be at home in Chelsea on Tuesday between 9pm and 10pm. The door will be opened for you. 

Signed. Uther Pendragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story will recommence in the next chapter - already in progress. Thank you for your patience and to paraphrase Douglas Adams, I apologise for the inconvenience.


	18. Father and son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry that my posting schedule has still gone to hell in a hand basket. I cannot see the future so I cannot commit to better but I will do my best to pick up the pace (circumstances allowing). Thank you for still hanging on to this pair :)

Arthur stood on the steps and hesitated. Once this door had meant home and security but the last time he had stood here he had felt only desolation and a soul-destroying loneliness. He looked back along the road to where the large shape of Belinda loomed in the dusk, Merlin just visible behind the wheel. Arthur took a breath. As long as Merlin was there, nothing in this house could make him feel that loss again. He knocked. 

 

There was a click and the door opened silently, no human present. Arthur noted the new security system and walked in. Light was showing from the Drawing Room and Arthur, feeling more and more that he was walking into his memory, stepped in to the pool of light. 

 

His father was sitting, brandy glass in hand, just as he had been the last time Arthur was here. Arthur restrained a shudder as he came closer. He was stronger now, he thought, and then thought of the silent figure sitting outside, waiting patiently. Merlin had declined to come in, saying that his presence would destroy any hope of rapprochement with Uther, but, nevertheless, he had packed Grumbles into the car and driven to Chelsea and was prepared to sit outside all night if necessary. Thinking of that, Arthur revised his thoughts. 

 

He was not stronger than he had been the night his father disowned him. But now he knew that he did not need to be strong, because, if he needed to be weak, he had someone who would be strong for him. Knowing that, he stood before his father. 

 

“You came” Uther said, stating the obvious. 

 

“I did” Arthur said, equally obvious. 

 

“Are you expecting an apology?” Uther said fiercely, not looking at Arthur. 

“I expect nothing” Arthur said “I am your son. No words can change that. So I came” 

 

Uther nodded slowly. 

 

“You are my son” he said without emotion. 

 

Arthur felt the cold band that had lain around his heart for more than a year, lift up and fly away. His breath came short and quick but he said nothing. 

 

“Sit” Uther said, gesturing towards a chair; a new one Arthur noted. Arthur sat. 

 

“This is not...” Uther began, then stopped. Arthur was disconcerted. His father was never stuck for words. He spoke or was silent, he did not hesitate. 

 

“What do you want from me” Uther asked abruptly. Arthur was surprised and almost blurted out that Uther was the one who had summoned him here. The silence grew. Arthur wanted to say that he wanted his father to accept him, that he wanted his dad to love him but as the silence curled around him he realised that if Uther did not already know that, it did not really matter. Finally he spoke. 

 

“Nothing” he said. 

 

“If that is true, you will be the only one in the world who wants that” Uther said bleakly. Arthur shuddered again, this time in sympathy. Uther sounded lost. Arthur was puzzled but silent. He could hear the Ormolu clock on the mantelpiece. It had come from his mother’s family he had been told and he had spent time as a child staring at its gilded curves as if her face would miraculously appear in its shine. She never had. 

 

The clock gave Arthur the courage to push further. “You called me here” he said. “What were you expecting?” 

 

Uther looked blankly at him. “I really didn’t expect you to come” he said at last. “It was a gamble” 

 

“You don’t gamble” Arthur said quickly, a remembered conversation rushing to the front of his mind. “You said once that gambling was for fools, that you assessed every possibly eventuality and worked out the risk of them all” 

 

Uther was surprised, but quickly hid it. “I didn’t think you ever listened to me” he said and Arthur felt an overwhelming sadness at all the moments of misunderstanding that marred their relationship. 

 

“I listened” Arthur said. “When you talked to me”. He looked at the clock again. Its ornate face showed only a few minutes had passed. Arthur felt he had been in that room for hours. He felt stifled and uncomfortable. The silence grew between them, with only the clock speaking. Finally Arthur could bear it no longer. 

 

“What do you want from *me*” he said, breaking the ticking of the clock. 

 

Uther stood up and walked towards him. For a moment Arthur wondered if his father would finally embrace him but Uther passed him and went to the sideboard behind. There, he picked up a cigar and, unwrapping it carefully, rolled it in his fingers. 

 

“I gave them up, you know” Uther said, cutting the cigar. “But it seemed a waste” He lit the cigar and went back to his seat. 

 

“In the next year Pendragon Enterprises will be going public. We haven’t got a precise date yet – we will let the market decide.” He took a deep breath. “Before that – very soon in fact, I will be stepping down as CEO. Catherine will replace me” 

 

Arthur was stunned. He could not imagine a world where his father did not run Pendragon Enterprises. There was no reason he would quit – unless...

 

“Are you being coerced?” Arthur demanded “Has she...?” he did not get a chance to finish. Uther laughed. 

 

“You think I could be blackmailed into giving up my company?” he barked out. Arthur wanted to snap – ‘why not, you gave up your son’ – but he bit back the words. Uther took another puff of his cigar. 

 

“It was why I married her” Uther said “She’s got the brains and the drive. I spotted her early on and trained her. We work well together. I married so that here still will be a Pendragon at the helm of my Company.” He took a pull of his cigar. “I’ve always known you had no interest in working with me” 

 

Arthur thought of the long hours he’d spent under Alfred’s tutelage, learning about engines and how to fix things in the hope that he could win his father’s approval – or at the very least his attention. He could not remember at what age he stopped looking for that; when he had given up on trying to be the son Uther wanted. He sighed and tried to fight back the resentment that finally there was something in Uther’s life more important than his work 

 

“And what will you be doing when Mrs. Pendragon is running your company?” He said curtly. 

 

There was silence as Uther breathed in his cigar. The clock on the mantelpiece ticked loudly. Outside a dog barked and Arthur thought of Grumbles, sitting with Merlin. The thought made him warm. 

 

“Dying” Uther said at last. 

 

Arthur did not process the word at first. It took a moment to settle. “What/” he said unnecessarily. 

 

“They haven’t given me a precise time frame” Uther said calmly “But I do not intend to leave a mess behind. This way all will be organised.” 

 

“Am I being organised?” Arthur snapped bitterly though he felt his throat constrict around his words as ‘Dying’ echoed in his ears. 

 

“You are back in the public eye” Uther said “There will be question asked of you. You should have prepared answers. The transition must be smooth if PE is to remain strong” 

 

Anger rose in Arthur. Was this visit purely to protect his father’s precious company? He snapped out “Prepared?” and waited for the response. 

 

“Catherine will have her people work out what you can say” 

 

“I think I can use my own words about how I...” Arthur began but stopped as he had a sudden memory of his father on one of the few occasions they spent time together. “Use your own words always, Arthur,” Uther had said when Arthur parroted the opinion of one of his schoolmates, “Never let anyone speak through you”. Arthur remembered every part of that day. Uther had spent the whole afternoon with him, and had even worn jeans and left his phone behind. They had gone fishing, and though they caught nothing they had talked and talked. That night Uther had been called to a meeting in Hong King and Arthur had not seen him for three months, enshrining the afternoon as a perfect moment. 

 

The memory should have made the anger stronger but instead it brought the sharp prick of tears to his eyes. His father was dying. Despair filled him. 

 

“I don’t want you.....” Arthur began to say but stopped – ‘I don’t want you to die’ seemed to be the words of a child. He swallowed and tried again. “How do you...? Have you seen doctors? What...” 

 

He knew he was becoming incoherent but he could not help it. “Father?” his voice broke despite his efforts to control it “ Dad? There must be something...” He trailed off. 

 

Uther stared at him with surprise. “You care?” he said. “You’re upset.” Uther paused and stared at the fading light beyond the window. “I thought you would be relieved. Vindicated even”

 

Arthur gaped. “How... how can you say that..... I am your son... of course I...” He stopped. “I care” he said eventually. 

 

Uther gazed unblinkingly at his brandy glass. “I have never really tried to be a father to you. There were always other ...” 

 

“Important” Arthur’s interjection was almost whispered

 

“...things to be dealt with.” A phone rang in his pocket, it’s shrill ringtone drowning the ticking of the clock. 

 

“Even now” murmured Arthur. 

 

“I have to take this” Uther said. Arthur shook his head at the inevitable familiarity of it. 

 

“You can see yourself out” Uther continued and Arthur stood and made for the door. 

 

“Arthur?” Arthur stopped, his hand on the elegant door handle. “I’m still not comfortable with... what you are” Uther’s voice was low but clear “But having a time limit is teaching me to re-evaluate what is comfortable. Maybe... maybe you could come again some time?” 

 

For the first time ever Arthur heard a plea in his father’s voice – though a moment later Uther was speaking to his caller and Arthur wondered if he imagined it. He did let himself out. 

 

_________________________ 

 

Arthur stood on the steps once more – and again his life had shifted. The loss he had felt the last time he left this house had been eased and then made deeper and he did not know how to react. He walked towards the waiting car, his mind in turmoil. 

 

“Christ! Arthur! You look awful, what happened?” Merlin was full of concern as Arthur pulled himself into the car but Arthur could not respond. 

 

“Please. Not now. Just take me home” he said. Merlin seemed about to say something but stopped and nodded slowly. He started the engine and drove through the summer traffic. 

 

Arthur did not notice the relatively short journey to the flat but he was grateful when the car stopped and Merlin took Grumbles’ lead from the back seat. 

 

The London flat was small and pokey but had good Underground links with Westminster. The furniture which came with the flat and was cheap but relatively comfortable. Arthur had not made plans for after the election but Merlin had – hence the flat. 

 

On the morning after Arthur’s election victory they had returned home soon after dawn. Merlin threw open the windows to the garden and the scent of lilac filled the room. 

 

“So” Merlin said “Mr. MP, Bed or breakfast first?” Arthur flopped down on the bed. 

 

“I’d rather hug you if that’s okay” Arthur said reaching out for Merlin with what could only be called grabby hands. “I know Clarissa was not being unreasonable when she recommended no public displays of affection – but I missed hugging you last night” 

 

Merlin settled down in his arms and snuggled close. “Catch yourself on!” He laughed “You’ve never been big into PDAs so stop complaining” he added with a smile and a kiss. “But now that you’ll be in London we’ll have to get used to the distance thing again – phone calls and all. Good thing we’re experts” 

 

Arthur fought against guilt. “I didn’t think about that” he said contritely “I’m sorry...”

 

“It was my choice too” Merlin said gently. 

 

“I didn’t think I’d win” Arthur mumbled into Merlin’s shoulder. “I was sure this was a glorious last stand – go down fighting sort of thing. I didn’t plan any ‘after’.” He pulled away in shock “ God! I have to find somewhere to stay!” 

 

Merlin disentangled himself and padded over to a chest of drawers, talking over his shoulder as he did so. 

 

“ I was sure you were going to win” he said “And even if you didn’t – well, you would need somewhere in London anyway” He picked up a folder from the top drawer and gave it to Arthur. “I took a year’s lease. It’s not a great place – you won’t like it much – but that was the idea – lots of encouragement to find someplace you do like” 

 

Arthur thumbed through the specs. “You rented a flat?” he said. He could have added – ‘without telling me’ but he did not even want to. In the past he would have felt anger at Merlin’s unilateral action but instead he simply felt relief – and a sense that he was being looked after which made him feel safe. This was love, he thought, this feeling. 

 

His silence seemed to make Merlin anxious. 

 

“You’re not mad are you?” he asked. “That I didn’t talk about it first? I figured you’d go all stressed and ‘Won’t be necessary because I won’t win’ on me so I saved myself the bother” 

 

“I’m glad” Arthur said, nuzzling close. 

_____________________ 

 

He was even more glad when the front door of the flat shut out the world and Arthur sat on the battered sofa, Grumbles resting his head on Arthur’s knee. Merlin set about making tea – the ubiquitous cure-all and Arthur watched him and tried to relax. 

 

Their time together had led to greater understanding. Merlin had come to see that, when hurt, Arthur could not talk until he had processed what had hurt him. Merlin learned not to pressure him to speak and instead left him in silence. For his part, Arthur came to trust Merlin not to push him and so no longer needed to run from emotional situations. In contrast, Merlin needed to be pushed to talk about things that upset him: for him brooding was not healing. The both considered learning the other as a work in progress. 

 

Merlin brought in mugs of steaming tea and sat beside Arthur. He did not speak – not even to make small-talk, but simply sipped his tea. 

 

Finally Arthur spoke. 

 

“He’s dying” he said “He said I’m his son and then told me he was dying and now I don’t know what to feel about him” 

 

Merlin sighed and mentally cursed Uther. Uther had made a childhood nightmare into a adult horror story. Every child felt the terror of the possibility of the loss of a parent. Every adult felt the horror of its probability. Arthur faced the loss of his parent - but also the loss of all that could have been – could still have been. 

 

There were no words to fix this. No amount of logical problem solving so beloved of Arthur would make a difference. Merlin saw the pain in Arthur’s eyes and carefully put down his mug. 

 

“ You will let me love you” Merlin said softly, cupping Arthur’s head in his hands. “I will undress you and bathe you, and worship every part of you so that you will forget everything but my name and when you are sated you will sleep in my arms and I will keep you safe and there will be no need to feel anything before morning” Arthur drew a deep breath and seemed about to speak. “Shhh” whispered Merlin leaning in and kissing him deeply. There was a movement at their feet. Merlin pulled away from Arthur’s eager mouth, sucking on Arthur’s lip as he broke contact. 

 

“But before any of that” Merlin said “You, My Love, will feed your dog before he chews my shoes” 

Arthur laughed. 

__________________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is slightly shorter than usual because I have resolved to stop when it feels right and not to write for the sake of words. I do tend to feel guilty if a chapter is not long - I feel I am cheating those who click in - so apologies.


	19. Promise to be true

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catch-up: Merlin has been working on a plan to work out emergency routes for ambulances and paramedics through by-ways and farm lanes. This has faced some hostility from his superiors.

Sqch19#2 

Merlin parked Belinda and headed down the steps towards the kitchen door, noting again the carefully cemented slab that had once caused a row. Arthur himself had fixed it – and watching Arthur mix cement had been an experience Merlin would pay to see again. 

 

In the kitchen Grumbles was lying in a patch of evening sun and raised his head as Merlin came in; an acknowledgement rather than a greeting. From the oven an appetising smell wafted around the room and Merlin smiled as his nose filled with the aroma. Marlene had cooked. 

 

Marlene was turning out to be an unanticipated treasure, even in a month. At her interview that was not obvious. Arthur had rolled his eyes at Merlin as he led in the neon pink clad Marlene – who turned out to be their talkative waitress in the Inn. But their ad seeking a dog seeker had not been overwhelmed with responses and they had interviewed all applicants – who had included two school children (one of whom looked about eight), a shifty looking man with appalling body odour and a farm labourer with a keen sense of how to ‘discipline’ dogs that had left Arthur looking up animal protection laws. Marlene had seemed to be another in this list of impossible; right until the moment Grumbles came in, plonked himself beside her and positively cuddled her. 

 

Merlin had to laugh at Arthur’s reaction – a mixture of distain, relief and a little bit of jealousy; but Marlene got the job and within in a week she was bringing in home-cooked meals for Merlin “Because Mum says you’re too thin”. Merlin could not recall ever having met Marlene’s Mum but the food was delicious and Marlene was quickly promoted from dog-sitter to part-time housekeeper plus dog-sitter. She took the dog-sitting part very seriously – taking Grumbles for long walks, playing with him in the garden and sitting with him giving lots of pats. He adored her almost as much as Arthur. 

 

Merlin took another appreciative sniff of the cooking smells and sighed happily. It didn’t just mean a good meal – it meant Arthur would be back this evening. Since the memorable occasion when Merlin; worn out and miserable, had forgotten a meal in the oven – only to wake some hours later to a smoke alarm and a howling dog – Marlene only left food cooking when Arthur was expected. Merlin smiled to himself. Arthur would be home soon. 

 

Merlin had found it harder than he had expected to get used to Arthur’s absence. In truth he had not yet got used to it. The years in Abbotsmead had spoiled him. He had grown accustomed to Arthur’s bedtime rituals – including Arthur’s instance on hearing ‘Sailing By’ before he slept. Merlin; who liked early nights, tracked down a YouTube version and got his sleep. Now he found himself tuning in to the Shipping forecast as he reached over the empty bed. 

 

But not tonight.   
Tonight he would have a real live Arthur to be close to. And Merlin really didn’t care what Arthur listened to as long as his attention was fixed on Merlin.   
And his hands.   
And, in all probability, his mouth.

 

A sound deeper in the house broke his train of thought. For a moment Merlin was startled but then he relaxed. If Grumbles was sleeping then there was no chance of any intruder: when it came to Arthur’s property Grumbles was as fierce as any professional guard dog. So that left Marlene or ... 

“Arthur?” Merlin called and got a grunt in reply, probably from the study. Merlin wondered would he ever lose the thrill of hearing Arthur respond to his call as he hurried down the hallway. It was daft, to get a warm feeling at hearing a single syllable, but it still made Merlin feel at home. 

 

Arthur was in his study – and had been for some time judging by the mug of cooling coffee by the couch and the newspapers strewn around the floor. Currently Arthur was reading a book but he looked up as Merlin came in. 

 

“When did you get home?” Merlin asked while mentally despairing of ever getting Arthur to fold a newspaper. 

“A few hours ago” Arthur answered. “I thought I might as well beat the traffic” Merlin was slightly surprised but Arthur went on “But you are early too? Shouldn’t you be only finishing now?” 

 

“Roger came in early and let me off” Merlin replied. “I think he felt sorry for me. The Hearing is on Monday” 

 

Arthur turned around to look at Merlin more intensely. “Isn’t it just a chance to present your ideas to the powers that be?” 

 

“The formal ‘invitation’ said Hearing” Merlin answered wriggling figures to emphasising ‘hearing’ “So I guess it means dress uniform and pick up your P45 on the way out” He didn’t bother to pretend not to be worried. Arthur would know anyway. 

“They can’t...” Arthur began, then settled for “Would you like me to look over your stuff? I want to help” 

Merlin, picking up the newspaper automatically, paused. When he had started looking at his plans to develop a network of back routes Arthur had offered to help. Merlin had refused the offer. 

“This can’t been political, Arthur” Merlin had said “This has to be above all politics” 

Arthur had objected but Merlin had been adamant. “Everything you do is about politics” he had pointed out “Even the clothes you buy or the way you wear your hair is political” 

Arthur had scoffed but quietly acknowledged that Merlin had some truth. In the end he gave only moral support to Merlin, holding him when he came home tired and discouraged and making sure he was a suitable sounding board when Merlin needed to vent. 

 

Now though, Merlin didn’t hesitate. 

“Yes please” he said. Arthur laughed and pulled him into a kiss that left Merlin breathless and vaguely wondering if Arthur had shaved at all that day. 

 

“Food won’t be ready for ages” Arthur murmured into his ear and Merlin moved in for round two (and maybe more). He was to be disappointed. Arthur disengaged and moved towards the desk. “We can go over your presentation – check through things before we eat” 

 

Merlin did not pout. He didn’t. 

 

The next day they went sailing- long expected and much anticipated. Merlin thought briefly of cancelling it and staying to work on his presentation but Arthur was insistent and Merlin longed to be on the water again. 

 

Sailing wasn’t surfing but Merlin had come to love it. He loved that he could still read the wind, and feel the power of the sea beneath him. But he loved also that he had to learn new skills and new techniques. Learning was good – but best of all was that Arthur could share it with him. 

 

Although he had started with a one man dingy, Merlin had quickly moved on to a craft that could take two. Arthur had far more experience than he let on and within a short time, sailing became *their* thing and not Merlin’s thing. In that way it was even better than surfing. 

 

As they went to the car to set off for the coast, Arthur looked wistfully at the MG, still sitting in the garage. 

“Could we take that?” He said hopefully. 

Merlin sighed. “Not unless we leave the wetsuits, the lifejackets and the dog” He said bluntly. Arthur climbed into Belinda without a backward glance but Merlin saw the droop in his shoulders and resolved to make amends. Later. 

 

Grumbles was not fond of water. His first introduction to the sea had been at Doonshee. He had looked at the mass of heaving water and dug in his paws, looking up at Arthur for reassurance. When the advancing water washed over said paws, Grumbles gave a muffled yelp and jumped on Arthur who, faced with an unexpected armful of rather large dog, stumbled backwards, falling on to the damp sand and causing Grumbles to clamber over him and head for the dunes. Merlin was no help: he was doubled over with laughter. 

 

Merlin though was determined that Grumbles did become accustomed to the water. 

 

“We sail, Arthur” he said “Either we give it up or he learns not to panic when wet” 

 

This meant long afternoons with a paddling pool, soggy dog treats, and Arthur in shorts (which Merlin didn’t mind at all). Ironically Merlin was the better teacher; Grumbles went to Arthur for comfort but did obey Merlin’s commands. This was something they had discovered early on when Merlin had suggested obedience classes. Arthur had been horrified. 

 

“He’s not going to learn how to beg and roll over!” Arthur declared. “It’s demeaning. It’s an insult to his person-hood” 

 

Merlin had looked at Arthur seriously. “You do know that he’s a dog?” he said patiently. 

 

“Of course” snapped Arthur. “Doesn’t make him less of a person!” 

 

Merlin sighed but inwardly applauded and they worked out a compromise where Grumbles was taught to return when called, stay when ordered and not to jump enthusiastically on anybody but Arthur. 

 

In practice, Grumbles returned when Merlin called; if Arthur called him he would stand, with head on one side assessing Arthur’s mood. He only came over if he thought Arthur was getting stressed, otherwise he continued as he was. He stayed when Arthur asked him though – he always stayed by Arthur. 

 

By the time of the election victory Grumbles was well used to (but not madly enthused by) water. Merlin had him fitted for a doggy life jacket with special adjunct to keep his head up in case he did panic in water and so he joined then on their sailing trips. 

 

Merlin thought it typical that it turned out the dog liked sailing – he would sit in the boat with the wind blowing his ears back and grin, occasionally barking at seagulls. He even whined when taken off and only stopped sulking when he was let sit in the front of the car with the window open. 

 

When they parked the car and Grumbles ran off to check that no cats had visited his garden, Merlin nodded towards the MG. 

“Tomorrow, what about running away for a few hours and take your steed for a drive.” 

Arthur’s eyes lit up for a moment but then he shook his head. 

 

“You need to finalise your presentation - and anyway it’s your car” 

 

Merlin very deliberately stood in Arthur’s space, one hand on the MG. 

 

“I know what you gave me when you gave me this” he said “And I will Never. Ever. Give that up. But this car is yours and we are going to spend time together. No arguments.” 

 

Arthur gave a tentative smile and, when Merlin met his smile a soft grin of his own, he tugged Merlin close for a deep kiss. “No arguments” he agreed and then frowned as a cold nose nudged at his ankle. 

 

“Um, Merlin? Can we take this inside... and maybe feed Grumbles first?” 

 

Merlin sighed into Arthur’s cheek . He was still getting used to Grumbles’ interruptions. “Definitely need alone time” he murmured. 

 

___________________________________________________ 

They did have a drive in the MG, but when they returned, Arthur insisted in drilling Merlin on his presentation. 

 

“If this means something to you, Merlin, you have to train, to prepare, you have to take it seriously” 

Merlin thought of all the cowshit he walked through trying to talk to farmers about by-ways and lanes . 

“I am taking it seriously!” he growled. 

 

Arthur raised a supercilious eyebrow “Powerpoints? Really Merlin? Do you want to persuade them or send them to sleep?” 

 

When Merlin had revised his presentation Arthur insisted on Merlin presenting the whole thing with Arthur playing the part of hostile audience. Merlin did well answering the awkward questions Arthur put to him but when Arthur, in his role as bigoted pedant, began adding in personal comments Merlin found himself becoming more and more uncomfortable. Finally he snapped. 

 

“No! Arthur! Enough!” he said keeping his voice firm with great effort. 

 

“You never know when questions will turn nasty, you must be able to deal with them” Arthur was stern and unyielding. 

 

“I am, I mean I can... I mean....I have...”Merlin lost his battle with his voice and it shook with the effort. “I can deal... but not you... please not you...”. He gave up his battle to explain. How could he say that hearing those words, those harsh, cruel words, directed at him by Arthur touched a deep wound within him? He could not imagine surviving in world where Arthur voiced such scathing things about him. 

 

He did not have to worry about it. The moment Merlin stopped speaking, Arthur jumped up from the chair where he had been sitting like a Lord in judgement, and, in an instant was before him, his strong arms enfolding him, his voice, gently now, murmuring praise. 

 

“You are wonderful, you’re amazing” Arthur’s voice whispered uncharacteristically. 

 

Merlin looked at him doubtfully. “Are you taking the piss?” he asked suspiciously. 

 

Arthur looked at him with laughing eyes. “Maybe a bit” he said “But none of it’s a lie” he said more seriously “You are going to impress all of your bosses with your idea and...” 

 

“I won’t get fired?” Merlin interrupted 

 

“And you probably won’t get fired” Arthur agreed. 

 

Merlin huffed into Arthur’s collar. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the qualifier in there, Mr. Politician” 

 

Arthur laughed. “Come on, you need to get to bed if you are to impress them away tomorrow. Lots of sleep Merlin” 

 

Merlin sighed and relaxed into the arms surrounding him. 

 

////////////////// 

Later that night Merlin lay in those arms, tired and happy. 

“One thing they will ask you is about insurance” Arthur said – breaking the mood. “What would happen if one of your ambulances hits a cow on a private lane?” 

 

Merlin groaned, the comfortable mood broken. “I don’t know” he whined “And right now I don’t want to know. Can you go back to what you were doing... with the fingers....?” 

 

“That is a good answer” Arthur said “Minus the fingers bit. I don’t think the Hearing Committee would appreciate that.” 

“Not knowing is a good answer?” Merlin scoffed. “It never worked before. All those years in school and Uni, no one ever said that I don’t know was a good answer” 

 

“Stop being an idiot and listen.” Said Arthur at his most regal. “ You are a... what is it you called yourself?” 

 

Merlin sighed “A logistical tactician” he said. He had used the phrase earlier in the day and Arthur kept bringing it up. 

 

“Exactly” Arthur said “You deal with logistics. Your expertise does not include law or insurance. So that is what you say. Don’t make solutions that are not in your area.” 

 

Merlin pondered. “Isn’t that cheating?” he said doubtfully.

 

“That’s what Legal departments are for Merlin” Arthur said with certainty. “You have an idea – let the legal people iron out the wrinkles. If you try, they will blame you if it goes wrong – or just reject the idea out of hand if they see flaws. If you want this to happen, it can’t be just yours. Others need to bring their expertise to the table. That way the idea gets better and more people have a stake. Even if it’s no longer your project”

 

There was silence for a little while. 

 

“How did you go getting so wise?” Merlin said finally. “What about the glory?” 

 

Arthur tugged him around so that they were face to face. “Is that what you want?” Arthur asked with a puzzled expression.

Merlin smiled broadly. “Nah, I like the shadows. But you were made for glory, how did you get all ‘let it fly’ wish?” 

Arthur took a second to decipher Merlin-speak and then answered. 

“If think something is really important you have to do whatever it takes to make it happen. If that means letting go, well...” 

Merlin unhooked his arm from around Arthur and gently stroked Arthur’s face. 

“What’s up Love?” he said “What has you thinking?” 

Arthur lifted Merlin’s hand away, kissing it as he did so. 

“Not yet, not now. Tonight we think about your idea. Have you thought about what to say if they ask about driving skills? Would all drivers be able to take your back ways?”

Merlin indignantly got into a discussion of ‘his’ drivers and their skills and the moment moved on. 

 

When the talk became desultory as they began to drift to sleep, Merlin whispered. “I’m scared” 

 

“Do you want me to stay tomorrow? I could wait had have lunch with afterwards?” 

“And pick up the pieces?” Merlin said lightly. The idea of having Arthur near was attractive. “Don’t you have some important politic-y things to do tomorrow?” 

 

“Nothing important” Arthur said. “And you are important anyway. I’ll stay” 

 

He did. 

//////// 

The presentation was not as harrowing as Merlin had feared. No one yawned or looked irritated and the questions asked were reasonable and even thought provoking. Merlin relaxed and began to show his passion for the plan, talking of details that he had learned. One questioner did bring up the cow scenario and Merlin gave Arthur’s response, almost word for word. It seemed to do the trick. 

 

The thought of Arthur waiting for him gave him encouragement. Even so he felt as if he had done a full twelve hour shift when he met Arthur for lunch. 

 

“How do you do this all the time” he said to Arthur. “I would take any amount of logistics over that” 

“Making an argument can be fun” Arthur insisted, propelling Merlin into a pub for lunch. “Using words to change minds can be exhilarating” 

 

“I didn’t feel that – I just told them how I thought it could work” 

“That’s because you believe it. Arguments are easy then” 

 

Merlin ordered a ploughman’s and then turned to Arthur, “Do you make arguments you don’t believe.?” He asked seriously. 

 

“Sometimes it’s necessary” Arthur answered. 

Merlin played with the condiments as their food was brought to the table. 

Arthur looked at him with interest. “What?” he said. “You have issue-y fingers. What is it?” 

 

Merlin looked up with a blazing grin. “Issue-y fingers? Arthur have I corrupted you so much. Dare you say that in the House of Commons!” Arthur laughed but pressed the point and Merlin became serious again. 

 

“I just ... promise me you won’t become one of those politicians who’ll take up any cause if it would bring them glory. Promise me, when you argue something – really fight for something – that you believe it. Promise me you’ll stay you, even with...” 

 

Arthur held his hand through the coffee cups and discarded sauce sachets. “I don’t think that will be a problem” he said gravely. “But I promise. Now eat your bread and cheese, there’s a good boy” 

Merlin gave him an indignant glare, but ate anyway. 

////////////////// 

Much later, after Arthur had returned to London, Merlin went into the study to finally tidy away the newspaper Arthur had left behind. As he did so he saw the book Arthur had been reading. He picked it up, noting as he did so that it was a poetry book. He smiled to himself. When he first found Arthur reading poetry he had teased him. Arthur was quite indignant. 

“We language students occasionally strayed over to literature” Arthur had said scathingly. “Unlike you science types” 

He then insisted on reading poetry to Merlin, starting with John Donne’s ‘The Flea’ and going through much of the rest of that poet’s works. Hearing Arthur speak words of love converted Merlin to poetry. 

This book was not Donne, though it looked similar. Merlin saw the page Arthur had opened. 

“They flee from me that sometime did me seek” ...

Merlin stood for a moment in the darkened study putting together little things he had noticed. 

“Oh Arthur” he whispered “What it is you are not telling me”


	20. Did me seek

Sqch20 

Arthur was sure going back to Westminster would be like returning to school after a term away. He knew all the procedures – written and unwritten - and all the little things that made one an Insider rather than an Outsider. All he had to learn was the latest gossip of who was in and who was out and he was settled. 

 

It didn’t work out like that. The third time one of his former confidents brushed passed him with barely a word he recognised a pattern. Arthur began putting himself into situations and monitoring the reactions of others and it was clear he was being shunned. He received all the party memos about meetings and such, but the informal, meet-at-the-Commons-Bar-for-a-chat meetings where things were actually decided went on without him. 

 

Arthur accepted it – though it hurt more than he thought possible. He had, after all, created a storm of political turmoil, then left the field for others to clear up the mess. But no matter how he rationalised it, the exclusion still hurt. To add to the pain, he had to fight the niggling feeling at the back of his mind that this was inevitable – that he had always been a fake and now everyone knew – that they knew he was as worthless as he suspected he was. 

He understood that this was the depression creeping back and he fought it – but the loneliness did not make the battle easier. 

 

One day at the Commons Bar, he was alone – as was usual, when he was joined by a fellow MP. Porter was a member of the opposing party, but he and Arthur got on reasonably well, having been on the same committees and sharing many interests. Now of course, Arthur had seen seats on the most interesting committees going to people with far less experience than him and he was worried that he would not get a place at all. 

“Dining alone?” Porter asked, his raised eyebrow and waved glass seeking permission to sit. 

Arthur gestured assent and shrugging said “It would seem so”   
“Did you expect the fatted calf?” Porter said as he sat down 

“Not at all” said Arthur “I am a new boy after all” 

“Hardly” said Porter “But you did cause a spot of bother to important people with long memories and no inclination to let things go” 

“I’ll take my lumps” said Arthur 

“Spoken like a good Public School boy” said Porter and Arthur recalled that, despite Porter’s own party’s stance on education, Porter had in fact attended the same school as Arthur, a few years above him. Arthur looked closely and was surprised to see that Porter was even wearing the school tie. 

 

“Thing is” said Porter “Taking your lumps for a short time is all very well – but taking them permanently is another story.” He drank down the remains of his whiskey and put the glass on the table. “Fraser is not the man to forgive and forget” he said “If you ever decide to cross the floor – talk to me. We know the worth of a good man” Porter gave him a quick nod and strolled off, exchanging greetings with friends as he went. 

 

Arthur stared after him, schooling his face to show nothing. 

 

If what Porter implied was true, this wasn’t temporary sour grapes in an effort to teach Arthur a lesson in humility, this was something more. Arthur left the House feeling very unsettled. 

 

There was rarely a sitting of the House on a Friday and given his status as persona non grata, Arthur tended not to go in on a Friday, instead sleeping late and driving straight home to Abbotsmead, whether Merlin was working for the weekend or not. He did find it strange the few times he entered his home and found Marlene in the kitchen but there was something soothing in being greeted by an obvious fan who called him ‘Mr. Pendragon’ with a hint of awe in her voice. It pandered to his vanity and given that his vanity was taking a beating, he allowed himself that luxury. 

 

So Arthur did not set an alarm for Friday morning – intending to sleep until he woke. He was therefore surprised to be woken quite early by the enthusiastic bounce of an energetic dog. 

 

“Wha...Grum, how?” Arthur murmured as he gradually rose to consciousness. He was not a morning person and generally woke in stages. 

 

“Good Morning, Lazy bones!” Merlin’s cheery voice intruded on his confusion – explaining the ‘how’ Grumbles happened to be there. It didn’t explain Merlin’s presence though. 

 

“Merlin?” Arthur said as his brain tried to route controls back to his mouth. 

 

“Now, if I thought you were expecting anyone else we would have words” Merlin said lightly as he pulled the covers off Arthur (and Grumbles who had very quickly snuggled in and did not like being disturbed) 

 

“I was heading home later today” Arthur protested as he tried to wrestle the covers back up. 

 

“Yes I know” Merlin said patiently “But since I will be back in work on Sunday I decided to drive down straight after work so we can have more time together. And now get up and make me breakfast before I sleep” 

Merlin shoved Arthur out of the bed and took his place, wriggling round to find the warm spot.   
Grumbles looked conflicted, flicking glances at the bed beside Merlin, and Arthur, who was heading for the kitchen. He finally followed Arthur – Arthur wanted to assume through loyalty but was pretty sure it was a calculated desire for food. 

 

When Arthur returned to the bedroom with a tray laden with food Merlin was three quarters asleep. Arthur nudged him with an elbow while balancing the tray and manoeuvring himself beside his drowsy lover. He contemplated letting Merlin sleep but he knew that sleepy or not Merlin would be hungry – and if he did not eat now he would be exceptionally grumpy when he eventually woke. Not feeling up to dealing with a grumpy Merlin, Arthur resorted to simple tactics. 

 

“Wake UP!” Arthur bellowed in Merlin’s ear “The least you can do is eat this after all my trouble” 

Merlin opened one eye and then sniffed. In a moment he was wide awake. 

 

“An Ulster Fry!” He exclaimed in ecstatic tones. “With extra bacon! See, this is why I love you” He made insistent grabby hands at the tray. Arthur held it away from him.

 

“Is that the only reason?” Arthur demanded as Merlin filched a piece of bacon. 

 

“No,” Merlin said, considering. “I like most of your cooking. Now give over the bacon. I have been on canteen porridge for three days” 

 

Arthur gave him the tray, but was careful to grab his own plate. 

 

“Where’s his Lordship?” Merlin enquired, mouth full of sausages. 

 

“I fed him first. He’s on the couch sleeping it off” 

 

“Favouritism” Merlin remarked without malice. 

 

“Why are you here, Merlin?” Arthur finally asked. 

 

“Nah,” Merlin said. “Food now, then snuggles, then sleep. We’ll talk when I have had a few hours sleep”

 

Arthur’s shoulders tightened. “Should I be worried?” he said carefully

 

“I just drove for nearly two hours after a twelve hour shift – which I do not recommend on health and safety grounds by the way, just to have the pleasure of your company, why should that worry you?” 

 

“Now I really am worried” 

 

“Can’t I come to see you without an ulterior motive?” 

 

“No Merlin” 

 

“Can’t snuggles be an ulterior motive?” 

 

“Looking for snuggles is not an ulterior motive for you. You are quite blatant about it. And, Really? Merlin? What grown man says ‘snuggles’?” 

 

“The one who is currently trying to snuggle you?” Merlin said carefully propping the tray on the bedside locker and tugging Arthur closer to him. “Been a long day and longer night and I...”his voice trailed off and Arthur looked at him incredulously only to see him fast asleep. Only Merlin could fall asleep at the flick of a switch. 

 

Arthur sighed and arranged Merlin more comfortably in his arms. Not that he would stay there, he know. Merlin moved a lot in his sleep – Arthur wondered sometimes why Merlin didn’t wake exhausted. This was one of the moving times and, as Arthur was not tired, he had an entertaining morning as Merlin curled up like a kitten, cuddled like a teddy bear and eventually sprawled out in a starfish impression. 

 

Arthur stayed for quite a while, watching Merlin’s sleeping antics until a clicking on the linoleum in the kitchen told him that Grumbles was awake and active. He disentangled himself and prepared to meet the rest of the day. 

 

By the time Merlin woke, Arthur had showered, dressed, walked the dog, had a sandwich, walked the dog again and was in the middle of going through constituency emails. 

 

Merlin looked tousled and bleary-eyed as he stood in the doorway. “Whatimesit?” he mumbled at Arthur. 

 

“About 3pm” Arthur said succinctly. 

 

“Oh Good,” Merlin looked more awake. “Time to wake up and eat before bed time” He sat down beside Arthur and nudged him with his hip. “Hey, Mister, will you bring me out to a posh restaurant?” 

 

Arthur raised his head and gave Merlin a long, critical look. Merlin looked back defiantly, his hair sticking out in odd directions and his much-washed and now grey Batman tee-shirt looking crumpled and disturbingly revealing. 

 

“Not looking like that I won’t” Arthur said bluntly. 

 

Merlin glanced down at his torso. “Batman has class” He said indignantly. “but if you like I could wear one of your fancy suits” 

 

Arthur had a sudden vision of Merlin in his clothes and he choked slightly. Merlin grinned at the sound. 

 

“Don’t worry, I brought a Parka” he joked. 

 

“Merlin. Why?” Arthur decided to get to the point.

 

“I want you to take me to one of your favourite eateries, and maybe meet your friends” Merlin said with a wide-eyed innocent gaze that told Arthur that Merlin had found the packages of three days worth of takeout and had an inkling of what was going on in Westminster. He sighed. Merlin sat down beside him and reached for his hand. 

 

“You going to tell me what’s been going on then?” Merlin said softly. “I’ve given you time but now I need you talk to me” His voice sounded low and intense and Arthur knew better than to argue. He told all. 

 

When he was finished he sat back on the couch and ran his fingers through his hair. 

“So you see, it’s no big deal really. Nothing to tell” 

 

“I think it’s something” Merlin said mildly “I do wish you could have told me along the way” 

 

Suddenly Arthur felt irritated “What would you have me say, Merlin? Hey, mom, the kids in the playground won’t talk to me? Is that what I should have said?” 

 

Merlin stiffened slightly. “Don’t make a joke out of that” he said with some force and Arthur remembered too late Merlin’s difficult time at school. He put out his hand and was glad when Merlin grasped it in forgiveness. 

 

“So what do we do? Merlin asked. 

 

“I” stressed Arthur “wait it out” 

 

“But yon man Porter said it could keep happening” Merlin sounded pensive. 

 

Arthur pointed out that Porter was not in his party. 

 

“But he went to your school. Old boys’ network and all that” Merlin said pointedly. 

 

Arthur huffed a little as he became defensive “That’s not the big deal that people from state schools think it is” 

 

Merlin was having none of it. “He’s on your side in this Arthur, I know you think so and I know you’re worried, so, what are WE going to do?” 

 

“What do you suggest?”

 

“Talk to someone” 

 

Arthur stood up in exasperation “You want me to talk to people who aren’t talking to me to ask them why they won’t talk to me?” 

 

“Yes” said Merlin brightly. Arthur shook his head at the sheer Merlin-ness of it. 

 

“Do you have any suggestions how I do that?” he enquired in most polite voice. 

 

Merlin threw his arms up in a dramatic gesture. “I don’t know!” he said “I do logistics not politics” he gave his huge grin “You’re the expert on politics – you sort out the details” 

 

Arthur was about to launch into a complaint on how ridiculous Merlin was and how he, Arthur should never have given him ideas when a name popped into his head. 

 

“Lionel” he said and Merlin’s grin turned into a puzzled look. 

“Would he know?” he asked. 

 

Lionel had not gone up for re-election and had sent Arthur an email explaining why.

‘I have young children’ the email said ‘ and I want to get to know them before they turn into teenagers and start to hate me. Being an MP doesn’t help much. Between House sittings until 10.30 and constituency stuff at weekends there isn’t much time left for family. I want a nine to five job with weekends off and I have been offered just that so I am taking it.’ 

 

Arthur had not been in contact with Lionel since the election except to acknowledge Lionel’s congratulations at the result but he hoped that Lionel still had contacts within the Parliamentary party who would talk to him. Lionel could be the key. 

 

“Lionel can find out” Arthur was definite “he’ll either know or he’ll ask and they will talk to him” He glanced up to find Merlin looking at him with the expression of a proud mama watching a fledgling fly. He blushed a little. 

 

“So we have a plan then” Merlin said. 

 

Arthur nodded but then added “It’s just a conversation, Merlin, It won’t change anything” Arthur was surprised at how bitter he sounded. He did not intend to be bitter towards Merlin. 

 

Merlin, though, was having none of it. “Nononono NO” he said “You don’t get to go negative now!. We have a plan and the first part is to find out exactly what is going on and why. It’s a rule of logistics. You can’t move anything until you know where everything is.” 

As he spoke he became quite animated, gesturing even more wildly than usual and the effect on the Batman tee-shirt was, to Arthur quite mesmerising. The Tee-shirt rode up revealing a trail of dark course hair that completely derailed Arthur’s train of thought. For a moment he was brought back to his lust-and-frustration filled early encounters with Merlin. But there was no need for frustration now. He yanked Merlin down (pulling on the recalcitrant tee-shirt) until Merlin was straddling him. 

 

“Uh Huh” Arthur murmured as his hands slid past Merlin’s hips, (one with the scar that was so much part of him now Arthur did not notice it). Merlin grinned. 

 

“We’re still going to dinner” Merlin said, moving to bring them closer. “I brought a suit. I even picked out a sober and respectable tie” 

 

“Mmm?” Arthur’s fingers were busy and diverting consciousness from his brain. “Why?” 

 

“Because... Oh god” Merlin was also getting distracted but he carried on bravely, writhing as he spoke. “Because the last month had been crazy with your schedule and mine and before that was the campaign, and before that.... and Oh! .... and we are going have a proper date, in London, in public where you belong and OH!” Merlin gave up and Arthur grinned in triumph. 

Later Grumbles lay disconsolately at the bedroom door complaining. No one was in a position to listen. 

 

They even left him behind (with a large butcher’s bone) when they went for dinner. He was not impressed. 

 

(At the restaurant Arthur noticed that Merlin’s sober and respectable tie had Shrek peering out from a corner. Arthur couldn’t help feeling a little proud that Merlin had managed it) 

 

////////// 

A few days later Arthur got a reply to his initial call to Lionel. It was not comforting. 

“The word is out” Lionel said “You’re poison, Arthur. Fraser has made it clear that if anyone so much as passes the salt to you they will be frozen out, just as you have been. He’s terrified that you will build a power base and challenge him again. We never really knew him, Arthur, we thought he wasn’t a bad chap, but he’s totally paranoid. He has surrounded himself with yes men, nobodies who haven’t an original thought in their heads. Good ideas are shot down because the wrong people put them forward. The election hasn’t made a difference – he’s still the same” 

Lionel paused and Arthur tried to assimilate what he had said. The last part clamoured for attention and Arthur felt a sinking feeling. “Lionel, did you suffer because you had supported me?” he asked quietly.

 

There was silence at the other end of the phone. Arthur’s guilt grew with every moment. 

Lionel sighed. “I was leaving anyway” he said “Let’s just say he made that decision very easy. Arthur, it doesn’t matter about me. I’m out and I am happy with my life. But he’s not going to relent on you. This will never thaw.” Lionel took a breath. “You know, You should never have come back to Parliament. You should have stayed out when you had the chance. ” 

 

Arthur felt a cold resolve settle in his belly. 

 

“You’re wrong, old friend. I am exactly where I should be” he said firmly.

 

There was silence, then Lionel spoke, awkwardly at first. “Okay then, well, I wish you – Arthur? Are you sure you know what you are getting in to?” 

 

“I know” Arthur said firmly “And I’m back” 

He felt stronger than he had felt for years and wondered if this was what warriors felt before going into battle. This was something he understood.

 

“I’ll put the word out then. The Monk is back” Lionel’s voice was warm and there was pride in his tone. 

 

Arthur had a sudden thought of Merlin’s tee-shirt. “No” he said with a low laugh “I am not the Monk. A Knight maybe” Lionel would not understand, but Merlin would appreciate it. And after all, everything was for Merlin. 

 

It was on.


	21. Le Deluge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another view from the gallery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parts of this could possibly cause upset to people affected by local floods.

SQ ch21

It was going to be a good day, Marlene decided as she walked along the High Street from the Inn to the house. For a start it wasn’t actually raining and that was a good thing already. It seemed to Marlene that it had been raining every day for weeks but today there was even a little bit of sun. It would be a good day, definitely. 

 

Marlene liked seeing the good side of life. Her brother Jimmy said it made her like a Disney character, with singing squirrels and dancing deer. There were times Marlene found it hard to see the good in Jimmy. Secretly though when she was a kid, she wouldn’t have minded being a Disney princess. Okay, so maybe she was a little on the short side, and maybe she might be a little too chubby to fit the profile, but, really, it was all in the attitude wasn’t it? Marlene had the right attitude. 

 

Not that it was hard to be positive with her job. She loved it. She was getting paid to be nice to a dog (an adorable dog) and Marlene loved dogs. Plus her hours meant that she could keep her lunchtime shift at the Inn, which was important since Mam was still out of work with her back and the extra money was welcome. So it was all good. 

 

Marlene let herself in the front door, feeling rather self-conscious. She much preferred coming in the back way but when she was coming from the Inn this was handier and Mr. Balinson gave her a key and told her to save herself walking all the way around to the back. Mr. Balinson was nice that way. 

 

Inside she could hear Grumbles whuffling a welcome from the kitchen at the end of the long hallway. They had learned in her first week that he had to be confined to the kitchen when he was alone or he would wander upstairs looking for company and get stuck. Marlene thought it was hilarious that he still hadn’t figured out stairs but she hated seeing him distressed so she was very careful to close the door when she came for her morning visit. 

 

Mornings (when Mr. Balinson was working day shifts) were for cuddles and games in the garden (when it was dry). Grumbles wasn’t fond of water at all and when it rained he would stand at the door and whimper at the thought of going out. Mr. Pendragon had got him a coat to wear in the rain and though Marlene thought it was a bit sissy at first, she warmed to it when she saw how it made Grumbles happier about going out in the rain. A wet Grumbles was not a happy dog and Marlene liked to make him happy. 

 

When she opened the kitchen door she was greeted by a yelp of affection as Grumbles leapt to hind feet to say hello. Given his size and her height, that meant being nose to nose, but Marlene didn’t mind. It was a good day. 

 

Marlene set about making sure there was an easy-to-heat-up-but-not-processed meal for Mr. Balinson when he came home later that evening. It was her Mam who had started that. She said Mr. Balinson was too thin. Mam liked Mr. Balinson. She had seen him soon after he had moved to Abbotsmead, when he was still on crutches. Marlene couldn’t recall ever seeing him then but Mam had seen him in the village shop. Mrs. Glossup had made a nasty comment and Mr. Balinson had been ever so dignified, Mam said. Mam had a thing about dignity. “You keep your dignity, Marlene, and no one can ever talk about you”. Marlene wasn’t sure about that – Mrs. Glossup could be mean about anyone, but Mam’s insistence did make a difference on the night of the school party when Marlene was the only one who didn’t have a really embarrassing photo put up on Facebook. Marlene was rather proud of that. 

 

Mr. Balinson was easy to talk to even if he did have a funny accent. When he was working night shifts he would be there when Marlene and Grumbles came in from their walk. Sometimes they would have tea and Marlene would tell him about Mam, and Jimmy and Evie. He was nice. He said to call him ‘Merlin’ but Marlene didn’t want to. He was her boss and she liked being formal. It made her feel important in a strange way

 

She would never even consider calling Mr. Pendragon by his first name. After all, he was an MP and he’d been on telly – proper telly not celebrity stuff so he was important. And besides, Mr. Pendragon was scary. Not that she saw much of him. The whole point of her being there was that he was in London and when he was home at weekends she was off. He went to visit her Mam early on, when Mam started making food for Mr. Balinson. Marlene wasn’t sure what was said but after that Marlene was promoted to housekeeper and got more pay and either she or Mam cooked for Mr. Balinson most days. She was sure she should be angry that Mr. Pendragon talked to Mam and not her but in fact she was relieved. He was scary. 

 

She had found out how scary last week. She had just come back from the walk when Mr. Pendragon stalked into the kitchen. 

 

“I left papers on the dining table. Did you move them?” he snapped. He didn’t shout the way her dad did before Mam threw him out and she didn’t feel he was going to hit her but he was still terrifying. 

 

“Um, yes?” Marlene said because Mam always said to be honest and she had tidied up the table. Marlene liked things to be tidy. Mr. Pendragon stated talking about how she shouldn’t have touched them and was she snooping and Marlene wanted the ground to open up and swallow her but then Mr. Balinson came in. 

 

He just put his hand on Mr. Pendragon’s shoulder and said “Arthur, stop” in a quiet tone and it was as if all the scary faded out of Mr. Pendragon. He leaned into Mr. Balinson

 

“They are... well, you know what I was working on” he said quietly to Mr. Balinson. 

 

“I know” Mr. Balinson said “And we shouldn’t have left them out” 

 

“I got distracted” Mr. Pendragon murmured with a little smile. The smile that Mr. Balinson gave him in return was positively sinful. Marlene would love if Tony at the butchers would smile at her that way but he was obsessed with Shirley Smith with the long legs and he never even noticed that legs were never meant to be that orange. 

 

Marlene had never thought Mr. Balinson could smile like that. She thought of him in the same way she thought of her brother, though Jimmy was shorter and fair-haired and had more freckles. Mr. Balinson was cute in a friendly way – bit like Grumbles. He seemed always to be moving: even when he sat down to talk to her he was always looking around or fiddling with cutlery or something. But when Mr. Pendragon was there Mr. Balinson was different. He was still friendly and open but the nervous energy that ran through him all the time seemed to relax when Mr. Pendragon was in the room. Marlene thought it was beautiful – and never mind Jimmy and his Disney comments. 

 

That day Mr. Pendragon, with Mr. Balinson’s hand still on his arm, apologised for yelling (though if that was what he called yelling he had lived a very sheltered life as far as Marlene was concerned). He sat down and tried to chat but Marlene could see the edges where he was trying. It was like her school principal when he was being all friendly. Like – it was real, Okay? But it was also his job? People thought Marlene was thick because she wasn’t going to Uni but she noticed things and she noticed that about Mr. Pendragon. She figured it came with being a politician and being on telly and all. Mind you he wasn’t like that with Mr. Balinson. Although they could be right snarky with each other (especially over the chocolate biscuits) you could still tell they were together. It was nice. 

 

He was still scary though. 

 

///////////

Marlene looked out the window, assessing the weather. Dark clouds over the hills showed that somewhere was still getting rain, but the skies above were clear. She debated about Grumbles coat. The air felt muggy and warm and she didn’t want to overheat the dog. Finally she decided to forego the coat and simply put on his harness. She and Grumbles headed down the High Street and made for the school. She had to pick up Evie today as her Mam had an appointment. With the weather being so wet, Marlene decided to skip the usual route by the river. Instead, when she reached Evie, she led them up Prior’s Lane – a winding road that led slightly uphill away from the river. Prior’s Lane had a few houses on the village end but eventually led only to three farms and so the traffic was very light. Grumbles enjoyed walking here as it gave him plenty of hedgerows to sniff around. Marlene knew that Grumbles would prefer to run – he often strained at the leash with pent up energy – but Marlene did not ‘Do’ Running. This was understood even in school, where Ms Brownlow would tell Marlene and Kylie Miller to “Go for a walk dear” during PE. Marlene enjoyed those walks. She noticed things, like the way beech leaves look like silk when they are new and the way thrushes sang in the tree tops. She didn’t think Kylie Miller noticed much. 

 

Today there were lots of things to notice and Marlene pointed them out to Evie. As they crossed Prior’s Brook Marlene noticed the height of the water which was pushing at the narrow bridge. 

 

“I don’t think we’ll be looking for tiddlers today” she said to Evie who was pulling at her hand to find out what Grumbles was investigating in the hedgerow.

 

“Grum smells wabbits” Evie insisted. 

 

“Rabbits” said Marlene with an exasperated sigh. “Don’t go all cutsie on me, you can say your r’s” 

 

Grumbles was funny when he found wild things in the hedgerows. He would look at Marlene as if to ask what to do, then stare at the creature for a while in a rather embarrassed way before running off investigate something else, leaving bemused bunnies and fearful frogs in his wake. Marlene thought it just proved what a softie he was really. 

 

“We’ll go up to Angel wood” she said to Evie and they cut across a field to a patch of woodland. The bluebells were over but there was still lots to notice. She was happily checking out the evidence of a badger den with Evie when her phone rang. Surprised, she checked the caller ID and was startled to see Mr. Pendragon’s name come up. She answered quickly. 

 

“Am I late?” she said worriedly before he could speak. 

 

“Where are you? Is Grumbles with you?” Mr. Pendragon sounded cross and Marlene felt intimidated as she answered. He didn’t sound much better when he replied. 

 

“Well come back quickly. There is a weather warning out”. And he broke the call. Marlene looked at her phone in frustration. Mr. Pendragon was very order-y at times and she didn’t like it. Mr. Balinson was much easier to get along with she thought, as she called for Evie. It was just as well she didn’t see Mr. Pendragon often. 

 

When Evie finally came back from investigating the wood, (“There were fairy signs, honestly ‘Lene. Grum saw them too”), Marlene led her troop back to the road. The sky had got darker when they were in the wood and suddenly she felt anxious. 

 

“Hurry up, Evie” she demanded as Evie loitered “We want to get back before it rains” 

 

It was too late for that she realised as she beckoned Evie on to the lane. A large drop of rain fell on Marlene’s out-stretched arm and she cursed silently that she had not brought Grumbles’ coat. Drying a cross, wet dog was not a fun occupation. Then, without warning the rain changed. Marlene had heard the phrase ‘The heavens opened’ but she had never seen rain like this. In a moment she and Evie were soaked through. Grumbles whimpered and tried to wind himself around her legs for protection as raindrops hit every part of the road at once – with such force that they bounced right back up. Grumbles hated it and even Evie, who usually like storms complained as they blundered along the lane. 

 

Within minutes the tarmacadamed road surface was running with water and their progress was made slower by Grumbles’ reluctance to step in the joined-up puddles. He moved like a cat, shaking each paw as it hit the wet road. Marlene felt a sense of urgency come over her. She pulled on Grumbles’s harness much more roughly than usual.

 

“Come on Grumbles, move!” she snapped as she held Evie’s hand. Suddenly a thundering sound filled her senses. Marlene turned to see water rushing towards them. 

 

“The brook!” she cried “Prior’s Brook has broken its banks!”. Pulling both Evie and Grumbles she started to run but they had only gone a few metres when the water swirled around them. It reached to her knees but on Evie – so much shorter- it was above her thighs and Grumbles barely kept his head above the muddy flood. Evie gave a gasp and Marlene felt her sister being pulled by the tug of the rushing water. Desperately Marlene looked for safety but the steep side of the sunken road offered no respite. Dimly, through the splashing rain she spotted the remains of a tree trunk sticking out from the bank a little way along the now flooded road. Keeping a tight grip both on Grumbles’ harness and Evie’s hand she struggled towards it. 

 

“Up!” she shouted to Evie when they reached it. Evie clambered up the wooden slope as the water swirled underneath. Marlene reached down for Grumbles and hauled him up by his harness, resolutely ignoring any damage she might be doing to him. There was no room on the tree trunk for her and she stood pressed against it, holding her two charges safe as the pressure of the water grew. 

 

“I want to go home” Evie sobbed and Marlene was still able to think that that was a huge understatement. Grumbles was braced on the log, trembling wildly, not even grumbling. Even amid the noise of the rushing water Marlene found his silence disconcerting. She watched as the rain washed the dye from her cheap t-shirt. She tried to distract herself by wondering if the blue stuck, would she look like Mystique? Who was she kidding. With her body shape she would be a smurf. 

 

A tree branch, floating in the rushing flood, hit her knee and for a moment Marlene felt her feet lose the ground. She gripped tighter on the tree trunk trying to ignore the fact that her fingers were growing numb. It was cold. The rain was still falling just as heavily, adding to the volume of water and Marlene was finding it harder and harder just to stand. The swirling water now reached her thighs and Marlene knew she would fall soon and the water would push her down. 

 

Suddenly Grumbles’ ears pricked forward and he gave a booming bark, so close to her that she started backwards and almost losing her grip. 

 

“Marlene?” a shout from the lane gave her hope and from around the bend she saw Mr. Pendragon, still in his fancy suit force his way through the water to her side. 

 

Grumbles whined and pushed forward to greet Mr. Pendragon, who held out his hand and caressed the dog’s ears as he spoke. 

 

“Most of the way is flooded. Do you think you can make it?” 

 

Marlene reflected that if the alternative was hanging on to this tree in the freezing wet she would face Noah’s flood.

 

“Yes” she gasped, but, pointing at Evie, she added “But Evie can’t” 

Mr. Pendragon looked at Evie and Grumbles as they clung to the tree trunk and gave a deep groan. 

 

“Can you...” he started to say but as he spoke, Marlene, distracted, lost her grip on the trunk and felt the force of the water push her feet from under her. Only Mr. Pendragon’s strong hand on the collar of her t-shirt kept her steady. 

 

Her mind caught the idea that the t-shirt was much better than she thought as she fought to regain her balance. 

 

Mr. Pendragon was not thinking about the strength of her t-shirt. He looked as if all his worst nightmares were queuing up to get him. Marlene had felt like that when her GCSE results had come out and she knew that A levels were not in her future. But Mr. Pendragon looked even worse than she had – if that was possible. 

 

With a muffled moan he flung off his jacket and tied it roughly to the highest point of the tree trunk. 

 

“Stay” he said roughly as he picked up Evie and slung her in a fireman’s lift over his shoulder, ignoring her squeaks. He looked at Marlene. “Come on” he said harshly and tucked her arm in his as he set off down the flooded road. 

 

Without his arm steadying her, Marlene was sure she would have fallen in the rushing water. Mr. Pendragon strode through the flood slowly but steadily. As the first bend in the road blocked them from the sight of Grumbles; still on the tree trunk, a deep and echoing howl rent the air. Marlene stole a glance at Mr. Pendragon and couldn’t decide if it was tears or rain on his face. He kept walking. 

 

Evie looked pale, dangling over Mr. Pendragon’s shoulder and Marlene worried about her – she was a bad traveller at the best of times and being upside down would not be helping things. She would be mortified if Evie threw up on Mr. Pendragon. She looked at his face again and decided that maybe he wouldn’t be too bad about it. 

 

At the village end Prior’s lane had two levels. A spur of the road went uphill to some houses and the footpath continued on the higher level for some distance. On this side it was reached by stone steps and Marlene sighed with relief when she saw them ahead. She almost lost her concentration and her footing but Mr. Pendragon balanced her. 

 

“Steady” he said and she wondered if she had imagined tears – his voice sounded calm. When they reached the stone stairs Mr. Pendragon unceremoniously dumped Evie on the highest step he could reach and told her to get higher. Marlene scrambled after her. The bottom steps were under water but the top ones and the raised footpath were clear. Marlene sighed and released some of the tension which had been holding herself together. She pulled Evie into a hug and looked up and Mr. Pendragon. He was still standing in the flood. 

 

“Call the police. Tell them about the brook.” he said without looking at her. He turned around. “I’m going back” he said stepping back into the flow.

 

Marlene knew he was wrong. All the health and safety talks in school made a big thing of never going back once you reached safety – no matter what the danger. She knew she should argue with him, try to pull him back. But at that moment another howl filled the air and Marlene knew she would go back too. She nodded, even though he could not see her and watched as he struggled against the flow up to the bend in the road before fumbling for her phone – hoping that it was still dry. 

 

By a miracle her phone worked and she stayed calm enough to report the flood (though she thought that it would be pretty obvious by now since it was flowing straight to the High Street. It was only when the operator asked if her party were all safe that she lost her composure. 

 

“We’re okay – but Mr. Pendragon, he went back and I know I should have stopped him but he went back for his dog and the water is very fast and ...”

 

“Pendragon the MP?” the Operator interrupted. 

 

“Yes And I can’t see him and it’s been a while and OH!” Marlene caught sight of a figure rounding the bend “Oh he’s back I have to help him...” She disconnected the call and hovered uncertainly on the steps as Mr. Pendragon came closer. 

 

The water was deep now and he was struggling – because he was carrying a large dog in his arms. Marlene sighed with relief when she saw Grumbles and she felt Evie stir behind her. 

 

“He has Grum!” Evie exclaimed and Marlene felt her move behind her. 

 

“Stay on the path!” Marlene insisted as she herself stepped lower to try and grasp them. 

 

Mr. Pendragon’s arms surrounded Grumbles and the dog’s front paws were draped over the man’s shoulders as he waded through the muddy water. Grumbles held his head close to Mr. Pendragon’s ear and every so often nuzzled closer. As they reached the steps Marlene held her arms out to take him and allow Mr. Pendragon to climb the steps but both man and dog huddled closer to each other and she left Mr. Pendragon to clumsily manoeuvre out of the water. 

 

The rain had finally stopped and as they sat on the stone steps Marlene no longer had doubts that it was not rain on Mr. Pendragon’s cheeks as he bent his head into Grumbles sodden fur. 

 

Suddenly Marlene’s phone rang – the chime disconcertingly normal in the aftermath of fear. She took it up and checked who it was. ‘Mr Balinson’ the caller ID proclaimed. She answered it. 

 

Mr. Balinson sounded frantic, just like her mam the time Evie got lost in the shopping centre. 

 

“We’re fine” Marlene insisted “All of us, we’re all fine. We’re all here.” 

 

“Arthur?” Mr. Balinson sounded sort of broken and Marlene didn’t like it. 

 

“He’s here beside me right now” she said firmly. 

 

“Put him on” 

 

She handed the phone to Mr. Pendragon. “He wants to talk to you” she said “It’s Mr Balinson” 

 

Mr Pendragon looked slightly terrified and Marlene wondered how she had ever thought him scary. He took the phone and Marlene realised that bar sticking her fingers in her ears and going lalala she was going to overhear their conversation. 

 

Mr. Balinson seemed to be doing most of the talking. 

 

“Yes I did but...” Mr Pendragon said 

...

“Merlin...”   
...

“Yes I know but....” 

.....

 

“I had to. Merlin He howled. I had to and don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same. I still have nightmares about you jumping down that waterfall” 

...

“What? No! I didn’t safeword on you! Merlin! Really!” 

 

(Marlene wondered if it was too late to stick her fingers in her ears and start the La la’s) 

 

There was a pause and Mr. Pendragon’s expression softened. 

 

“And I love you but..”

.... 

“I really am okay. We’re just very wet. And Grumbles is a bit clingy.” 

 

(Marlene thought that was a very restrained way of describing Grumbles who currently looked as if he was trying to climb under Mr. Pendragon’s skin) 

 

Mr. Pendragon still had his soft expression and his voice had gone all soft too. 

 

“I promise. Straight home. No more adventures today. Go back to work love – I’d say you’re needed” 

 

Marlene felt strangely privileged to have heard his soft voice. She wondered if he only used it sometimes, in private, but she knew his politician’s voice wouldn’t bother her now. It was only him being posh, like her mam when she answered the phone to people she didn’t know. 

 

Mr Pendragon gave her back the phone. 

 

“You ready to walk yet?” He asked. “This footpath should get us back to the High street safely. Will your house be okay?” 

 

He sounded like he really cared and she believed him. And their house would be okay. It was on the hill side of the village. She told him so. 

 

They made their way to the High Street, where the flood from Prior’s brook had crossed the High Street and washed down Church lane. Most houses down there had had sandbags out for days but neighbours were adding more. Marlene saw Mr. Pendragon eyeing them and shook her head. She would have to step in. 

 

“You go straight home and see to your own place. You promised” She said firmly, feeling that she was acting on Mr Balinson’s behalf. “You’re sopping wet and so is Grumbles and you need to dry both of you off and have a rest” She knew she sounded just like her man talking to Evie but she didn’t mind. There were worse things she could sound like. 

 

(Nevertheless, Mr. Pendragon insisted on walking them home, and didn’t seem to mind that he had to carry Grumbles – who absolutely refused to get down and walk. Marlene sighed to herself. She would have a lot of work to do with both of them, she decided, but it would be okay. She could do it) 

 

That night she tucked Evie into bed. 

 

“Mr. Pendwagon is a hero, Marlene, isn’t he?” Evie asked as she snuggled her pink rabbit. 

 

“Say your r’s” Marlene said automatically “And yes, I suppose it is a sort of hero” 

 

“He saved Grum so he’s a hero” Evie said sleepily. “We know a hero, Marlene! That makes us famous too – Sarah will be so jealous” Sarah was Evie’s current best friend and Marlene didn’t mind if Sarah was jealous. Sarah (okay so her big sister Lou who was in Marlene’s year in school) was always going on about all the things she had that they didn’t have. Marlene carefully settled the covers around the rabbit and turned off the light. Knowing a hero felt good. She closed the door gently and went to her own room. She had been right she thought, it hadn’t been a bad day at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The image of Arthur wading through a flood carrying a large dog was the reason why this sequel exists, but when I finally got to that point of the story real life threw masses of work at me so I could not do it justice. But the picture exists in my head and we will hear more about it. 
> 
>  
> 
> I do not wish to trivialise flooding or the after effects. This part of the story was planned out last summer (and determined the geography of Abbotsmead) before England flooded last winter. I hope this aspect does not bring any bad memories for readers.


	22. Low Profile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too many apologies for delays can sound insincere so I offer up a chapter in supplication.

Sqch 22 

Driving to Abbotsmead that day, Arthur had not expected to take part in any type of flood-related rescue. What he had expected was an enthusiastic, wuffley welcome (courtesy of Grumbles), an old fashioned steak-and-kidney pie (courtesy of Marlene) (and Arthur made no apology for his passion for English food), and eventually – if everything worked out, hot sex, courtesy of Merlin (though given the way his day was going, Arthur would have been happy with gentle comfort sex courtesy of Merlin). 

 

What he got was a weather warning and an empty house. Going after Marlene and Grumbles was pure instinct; leaving Grumbles behind to carry the child was a betrayal of the instinct to protect his own in favour of doing what was right and it hurt more than he thought possible. By the time Arthur re-entered his home and shut the front door on the world he was feeling the effects. He was wet, he was cold, and to add insult to injury the steak-and-kidney-pie was burnt to a (literal) cinder. As he scraped it into the bin with slightly shaking hands Arthur had to ruefully accept that he was have to ease off commenting on Merlin’s cooking misadventures. He sighed. He wanted Merlin. He wanted Merlin to be busy making tea while complaining about Arthur. But there was no Merlin. There was a text – short and to the point “Delayed”. 

 

He looked down at the sodden, smelly dog curled around his feet. 

 

“It’s just you and me, Pup” Arthur said, using an endearment he used only when they were alone. Grumbles snuffled a response. 

 

It took the remainder of the day to get the two of them warm and dry and the results included gouge marks on the bathroom door where Grumbles had tried to rescue Arthur from the shower. Arthur appreciated the thought but rather regretted the door. He knew Merlin would have something to say about it and though he updated Merlin by text on his progress he left out destruction of property. That was something that had to be discussed face to face. Or face to muzzle. 

Eventually Arthur and Grumbles sat together on the couch, Grumbles, sporting his fluffy-poodle look, showed surprise that he got to curl up in Merlin’s usual spot but did not refuse the opportunity. 

 

Arthur took out his briefcase and looked at the file he carried. It had no ‘Private’ mark to draw attention but nevertheless he showed it only to two people. Last month, when he had started the file, he had been horrified to find that he had left it out for Marlene to clear away but was relieved she had not even looked at the contents. He realised he would have to get used to having someone else in the house again. For the first time Arthur understood Merlin’s reluctance to have ‘staff’. Privacy was a fair exchange for tidying your own mess, but needs must when the dog requires company. 

 

Arthur’s hand automatically went out to Grumbles, pressing down on the overly fluffy coat. For a moment he felt again the pain of leaving Grumbles behind and his fingers convulsed in the soft fur, tugging slightly. Grumbles harrumphed an objection and Arthur lifted his hand. Sometimes the Right Thing wasn’t Good, he thought and went back to the file. 

 

The papers contained profiles of all his fellow party MPs. Arthur had carefully classified them into those who followed Fraser through conviction, those who gave him loyalty and those who followed through fear. In the beginning most were marked ‘unknown’ but over the past weeks Arthur had fitted them into the different categories. The numbers depressed him. That morning he had gone to see Clarissa for advice. 

 

“I don’t Do national” she said bluntly when she had heard him out and read the file. “I like to keep my empire small and firmly under my thumb” 

 

Arthur did not argue that he was the sitting MP: in truth it was her empire and her thumb. 

 

Clarissa continued. “I do know people and I have observed Fraser. He is a small man in a big office and he doesn’t know what to do with it. So he does the only thing he does know how to do: keep his office.” She looked sternly at Arthur. “He thinks he’s neutralised the danger you pose, cut you off from support” 

 

“He has” Arthur interrupted. 

 

“He’ll leave you alone now” Clarissa went on reflectively “He won’t give you attention by attacking you. As long as you keep a low profile he won’t respond. But if you raise your head he will go for you with all the weapons at his command” 

 

Arthur gave a low chuckle “Do you think I’ll have MI5 on my doorstep” 

 

Clarissa glared at him “I doubt if the Services would be bothered with his petty feuds. No, he’ll use much more vulgar methods and you will not like them” 

 

“I can take it” Arthur said firmly. 

 

Clarissa’s look changed to one of pity. “Do you think so? I am not so sure. There may be ... collateral damage” 

 

Arthur understood what she meant. “Merlin and I have talked about it. We’ll be ready.” 

Clarissa tapped an elegantly manicured fingernail on the file in front of her. “If these are accurate,” she said “It will take time” 

 

“At least a year” Arthur agreed “Maybe more” He worked out a timeline as he researched. 

 

“You will have to keep a very low profile” Clarissa mused “One sniff that you might challenge him and he will attack. You will have to be what he thinks you are, isolated and alone” 

 

“I know” Arthur admitted. He did not tell her that he had planned out how he would work through the next eighteen months, who he would approach, how he would gently gain support. He did not acknowledge even to himself the Other plan, plan B, his alternate should he fail. 

 

“The problem” Clarissa went on “Is that being isolated makes you a bad MP. You were elected to represent the people of this constituency and they deserve someone who can do that” She did not say ‘My People’ but the possessive tone was there. 

 

“That’s why I’m here” Arthur said “I’ll need your help” 

 

Between them, Arthur and Clarissa built a working plan and Arthur felt relieved when he left her. Clarissa had not laughed at him. Merlin had scoffed when he had told him of the timeframe. 

 

“You can’t keep a low profile” Merlin had said “When you go into the shadows, you bring the sun, it’s just inevitable” 

 

Arthur had ignored him. It was Merlin and Arthur knew how Merlin felt about him. He had even ceased being embarrassed about it because he felt exactly the same way about Merlin. Merlin lit up a room - and as he sat with Grumbles in the fading summer evening, the room suffered a severe lack of Merlin. 

 

Arthur stared at his phone but it stared back, blankly. He put on a DVD to pass the time. It passed the time but Arthur realised that the words “This is a Kindness” could be very very menacing in the Whoniverse. 

 

He cried. And not just for the episode of Doctor Who. 

 

And the phone rang. 

 

Merlin knew the moment Arthur said hello. 

 

“You okay?” he said sounding worried. 

 

Arthur dodged. “The Girl who Waited” he said, knowing that Merlin would understood.

 

“You shouldn’t be watching that alone” Merlin chided “You know you always cry” 

 

“So do you” Arthur said defensively but the thought came over that it was wonderful that the world held someone he could cry with and he smiled. 

“I can’t come home yet” Merlin said wistfully “There have been flash floods all over the county and the river will breach at High tide tomorrow. There have already been problems upstream with the run off...” his voice trailed off and Arthur could hear the underlying guilt. That had to stop. 

“I don‘t need looking after Merlin” Arthur said firmly, answering the unspoken question. “Now, what time is high tide?” He knew the answer but it would make Merlin feel better. Merlin told him. 

“Right.” Arthur said decisively “I’ll make a few calls and get things organised” 

 

Merlin huffed over the phone “It’s midnight, Arthur. Normal people don’t make calls after midnight” 

 

Arthur gave a low chuckle “What gave you the idea I was normal, Merlin?” he asked. “And when are you planning to sleep? You’re not Superman you know” 

 

“I know” Merlin said “I’ll get a nap in the rec room. Are you sure you’re okay?” 

 

Arthur made reassuring noises and the call ended, leaving Arthur feeling rather empty. He refused to admit that he wanted a cuddle after the drama of the day but.... he wanted a cuddle. 

He settled for petting Grumbles. 

 

 

The next day Arthur helped with the flood defences of the village. He intended only to fill sand bags and keep the low profile Clarissa advised. He found he enjoyed the physical labour; the strain of his muscles confirmed that he was Doing Something, a feeling he did not get often. But it fretted him to see how disorganised the volunteer effort was and soon he was organising volunteers to check with every householder in the lower village to see what was needed, while streamlining the filling process. 

 

At one stage he took a break and went back to the house to check on Grumbles. The dog had absolutely refused to leave the house that morning so Arthur had left him. Now he discovered what a lonely dog with potential PTSD could do. As he shovelled up what was definitely not sand, Arthur was grateful Grumbles had avoided soft furnishings. Grumbles huddled in a corner as he cleaned, looking both terrified and defiant. Arthur put out his hand, then seeing the dog flinch, out down the shovel he was using. 

 

“Oh pup” he said softly, “What are we going to do now?” 

 

At that moment Arthur found the idea of being totally responsible for another living thing rather heavy. Of course he was responsible for Merlin’s feelings in general, but Merlin was capable of making his own decisions and telling Arthur (finally) if something upset him. Seeing Grumbles look at him with an ‘Are-you-going-to-hurt-me look?’ devastated Arthur (and he really wanted to meet the person who gave Grumbles that look – and have a long serious talk.) He ran his fingers through his dog’s rough fur and tried to think of a plan. 

 

An hour later Arthur drove the few hundred metres down the High Street with Grumbles in the passenger seat, wearing his life jacket. This was the solution they both (eventually) arrived at. It seemed that Grumbles felt safe around water with his life jacket on (and Merlin would be so smug when he heard that) and the car gave him a bolt hole to flee to if it all became too much. Arthur was aware of the stares he got driving an Alfa Romeo to a flood but it worked for Grumbles so he shrugged them off. 

 

Despite the overcast sky it was too warm to leave a dog in a car so, with a sigh, Arthur took out a jacket. He reflected, as he put it on the roof of the car, that he would have to get a supply of disposable jackets to give Grumbles to sit on – his wardrobe was being sadly depleted. Grumbles happily sat on the jacket – and Arthur said goodbye to his paint work as Grumbles clambered up. Once ensconced he sat like monarch of all he surveyed, a big doggy grin on his face. Arthur went back to work. 

 

The high tide came and the river breached its banks as predicted. The teams worked frantically to save what could be saved. Arthur failed like King Canute, ordering back the sea – but Canute expected to fail and Arthur worked to succeed. More volunteers came – some shoppers, attracted by Grumbles who abandoned their shopping to help the effort. Soon it seemed that the whole village was building sandbag dams, sweeping water, moving furniture and generally bustling around. His car became the focal point and somehow Arthur found himself as the co-ordinator – sending teams in different directions. 

 

A local BBC tv crew turned up and filmed the whole effort – including Grumbles on his throne, overseeing the effort. Arthur tried to avoid them but a reporter grabbed him with a question and running off would be even more noticeable than staying. 

 

“Isn’t it unusual for a MP to have such a hands-on approach?” The reporter asked. Arthur looked at him blankly. 

 

“I live here” He said “Just like everyone else here. This isn’t about being an MP, this is about defending my home, my people” Arthur believed every word but realised after he had spoken that it wasn’t very politically astute. He was about to turn to politician mode when he heard his name called and looked to respond. Somehow over the course of the day he gone from being ‘Mr. Pendragon, Sir’ to being ‘Arthur’ and he didn’t mind at all. He abandoned the reporter and went to deal with the current crisis. 

 

It was late when he got home, Grumbles sleepy and full (from treats passer-by gave him) on the back seat. Merlin was still not home, though they had kept in touch by text over the day. Arthur slept poorly. 

 

The next day was about boats – getting supplies to people cut off by the rising water. Merlin did not come home. 

 

The next day Arthur was feeling a little like Piglet surrounded by water, even though his house was spared the worst of the floods. He had been reluctant to take sand bags from the general supply, since his potential flooding problem came from the fact that the courtyard off the kitchen was lower than the garden. It was not river related and Arthur felt guilty taking protection from the rest of the village. He was surprised therefore to find his back doors carefully sandbagged. A note from Marlene cleared up the mystery. 

 

“I know you wouldn’t get them yourself but Grumbles would get upset if his kitchen got wet so I sent Jimmy up with sandbags. Dinner in the fridge” 

 

Marlene, in her capacity as waiter in the Inn had been helping with teas and coffees for the volunteers but otherwise Arthur had not seen her since the Prior’s brook flood. The fact that she had been thinking of Grumbles (and him) felt good. 

 

He still missed Merlin. 

 

Merlin was used to this – being alone in the house. Arthur was the one who left, Merlin was the constant. This waiting and wondering was his lot. Arthur had sympathy for Merlin but mostly he just wanted Merlin. 

 

As evening deepened Arthur sent Merlin a text. He knew it was seeking pity but frankly it wanted a bit of pity from his love. 

 

FROM ARTHUR missage Help Piglit (me) It’s me Piglit, Help Help. 

 

It took a while (feeding Grumbles, heating Marlene’s admittedly tasty dinner, eating said dinner) before getting a reply. 

 

FROM MERLIN I think they’re throwing me out – I’ll find an umbrella and rescue you. 

 

Arthur smiled. Merlin was coming home. 

 

Of course it took time, flood diversions being in place, but it meant that Arthur had time to cook. Well, he had time to prepare a sandwich. Arthur was sure it contained all known food groups though he was not sure exactly what a food group was. When everything was ready he sat and waited. Grumbles watched him wait and both jumped when they heard a key in the front door. 

 

Merlin looked tired and was wearing a beard. Arthur had always said that Merlin’s beard grew faster than anything else in the known universe. It had never bothered him before, but now, Merlin, tired and bearded, suddenly looked older and Arthur felt... it was wrong. Merlin should not look old. He was still the boy/man Arthur had first seen on a summer’s day in Donegal. He couldn’t be getting older. 

 

“Lose the beard” Arthur said abruptly. 

 

Merlin laughed. “Well, Hello to you too” he said, bouncing into Arthur’s arms. Kissing was strange with a beard in the way but Arthur got over it very quickly. 

 

“I missed you” he said wrapping his arms around Merlin’s willing body. 

 

“Pffpt!” exclaimed Merlin coming up for air. “As if you haven’t spent the last few days marshalling an army against the floods” 

 

Merlin melted into his arms. “I miss you every night you are not in my bed. And Oh God! Arthur, I miss my bed” 

 

Arthur chuckled “I’ll get you there” he said. “But lose the beard” Just then the microwave pinged. 

 

Merlin raised his head like Grumbles on a scent. “Wait, there’s food? Food first” He strode towards the kitchen leaving Arthur flailing in his wake. 

 

In the kitchen Arthur busied himself assembling the ‘sandwich’ which rather resembled a monument when fully ready. 

 

Merlin looked at it in awe “What’s in it?” he said incredulously. 

 

Arthur tried to work out an answer, then shrugged. “Everything” he said simply. Merlin nodded happily and tucked in. 

 

When only about half the food available was left on his plate, Merlin paused. “It worked Arthur” he said, “My system, it worked. Half the county under water and our response times didn’t go up at all. I don’t know if we saved lives but I know we sure as hell didn’t lose any”

 

Merlin glowed with achievement and Arthur felt a surge of pride – not that he had any hand in Merlin’s achievement but that this amazing man loved him. Wordlessly he stood up and wrapped Merlin in his arms. Merlin leaned into him. “It worked” he said again and yawned. “Oh but I’m tired” 

 

Arthur picked up the plate in one hand and took Merlin’s arm in the other. “Come on, sit in comfort” he said leading the way to a couch, settling his arm around Merlin as they sat, and feeding him pieces of sandwich as Merlin lay on his shoulder. Despite his tiredness Merlin was full of talk – details of how the system worked, snatches of conversations he had, bits of his days since they had last seen each other. 

 

“And they want me in tomorrow afternoon to ‘discuss’ the whole thing” Merlin said, waggling his fingers to emphasise the word discuss. 

 

“I’m surprised they approved it so quickly” Arthur said mildly, “It was good timing, it can take a while to get decisions” 

 

“Well, They. Didn’t exactly approve” Merlin said “which is what they want to discuss” 

 

Arthur didn’t try to disguise his surprise. “You didn’t get approval?” he asked. 

 

Merlin shrugged. “Floods don’t wait for nitpicking mandarins” 

 

Arthur was disturbed. “But, Merlin, that ‘nitpicking’ as you call is designed to find problems before they happen” 

 

Merlin stopped chewing and pushed away the remnants of his meal “There were no problems” he said in a low tone. 

“But there could have been” Arthur insisted “Maybe you were lucky but there could have been problems” 

 

“Maybe a whole load of people were lucky because an ambulance got to them on time” Merlin snapped, pulling away from Arthur’s encircling arm. “Did you really expect me just to watch as ambulances got stuck behind floods when I knew a way round?” Merlin’s eyes were blazing and Arthur could see he was truly angry. He wanted to back down but he couldn’t. 

 

“Look, I understand that” Arthur said placatingly “But rules are there for a reason, Merlin” He heard his own voice and winced at the superior tone he had adopted.

 

“Rules are meant to help people. Arthur.” said Merlin stressing the name as Arthur had done. “If they don’t help people they are in the way” 

 

Arthur was lost in the argument now. “But you can’t simply pick and choose which rules you abide by – that leads to chaos” 

 

“What I did was the opposite of chaos” Merlin said quietly. “I thought you’d agree” 

 

Arthur floundered “I do... I mean I think your scheme is wonderful and important and ... it’s the principle of the thing...I...” 

 

Merlin stood up abruptly “I need a shower and a shave.” he said. “Goodnight Arthur” 

 

He walked out of the room and Arthur could hear his heavy footsteps on the stairs – distinctive with the slight drag he carried when he was tired. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Arthur was stunned. They had had a row. No, an argument. And yes, they had had many, many rows before – from rows over dropped towels to the larger ones as they had gotten used to living together. But they had been about Them, about their emotions and the stresses of two adults with set ways living in the same physical and emotional space. This was different. This was about – well, principles and Arthur knew he could not run to Merlin and say he agreed with him because he did not. 

 

Grumbles whined at him, wanting to be put to bed. Arthur stood up as if in a dream. He didn’t know what to do. His old defence in any argument was to leave but Merlin had effectively taken that; though the sound of running water upstairs proved he had not gone far. What was the etiquette for post-argument relationships if neither side would say sorry? 

 

Automatically he cleaned up the kitchen, gave Grumbles (another) supper and locked up the house. If he took longer than usual doing all the little tasks it was not because he was delaying going upstairs. 

 

When he did go upstairs he stood on the landing. Merlin had said goodnight. Did that mean that Arthur should sleep in the spare room. The thought hurt and Arthur went to have a shower to put off thinking about it. When he came out he hesitated again. Gingerly he stepped in their room, staying in the doorway. The room was lit only by the bedside light and Arthur could seeing the shape of Merlin in the bed. He shuffled a little closer, more unsure of his actions than of anything he had ever done before. 

 

As he moved there was a bedquake as Merlin flopped himself over like a walrus covered in a duvet. When he settled Arthur could see blue eyes looking at him through the gloom. Merlin lifted the covers. 

 

“Come here” he said 

 

Arthur never moved so fast in his life – he positively levitated into the bed. Merlin tucked himself beside Arthur in his usual position. 

 

“So” he said “That happened” 

 

“Yes” Arthur forced out. He could feel tension rising again as every muscle waited for what was to come. 

 

“So.” Merlin said again “So, if we won’t bend, do we have to break?” 

 

Arthur stilled. He knew his next words would be among the most important he would ever say and he had no idea what they should be. Wordless, he lifted Merlin’s hand and carefully pressed a kiss in to the palm. Arthur had always lived by rules. If he did not agree with them he sought to change them not break them. Merlin’s attitude was alien to him and he wondered if he could live with someone with such a cavalier attitude to his own deeply held beliefs. The answer was clear and unequivocal - if that someone was Merlin that the answer would always- Always – be yes. 

 

Merlin sighed at the kiss. “Oh” he said “Me too” He lay still for a moment then Arthur felt him tense again. He did another walrus turn, until he was straddling Arthur. 

 

“You did mean no didn’t you? I mean, no to breaking? Yes? I mean...” His eyes looked worried though Arthur could see the gleam of mischief within them. He pulled Merlin in for a proper kiss. 

 

It took sometime before they were capable of coherent speech and by then they were both sleepy. They stayed in each other’s arms. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

When Arthur woke, Merlin was already up. He could hear sounds downstairs and the faint scent of cooking. Despite his general non ability in the cooking arena, Merlin could cook breakfast, which was just as well, since Arthur was not a morning person. Arthur sighed and rolled over. He wondered if he could justify another nap but knew he was simply delaying talking to Merlin. This would be another awkward morning. 

 

He went through his morning rituals with great care – and not necessarily slowly. As he dressed he noticed that Merlin had taken out a clean but un-ironed shirt – presumably to wear to his ‘discussion’. Arthur paused. He hated ironing with a passion. As an experience it had been entirely new to him when he moved to Abbotsmead – such things were dealt with invisibly before. After the ‘Staff’ row Arthur was reluctant to get an ironing service (there wasn’t one in Abbotsmead – or nearby – he had checked). He therefore had learned to iron – mostly collars and cuffs and occasionally lapels if he was feeling particularly virtuous. 

 

He picked up Merlin’s shirt and with a sigh set up the iron. He ironed it carefully – every piece according to the YouTube video Merlin had made him watch early on. Afterwards he hung it equally carefully and went downstairs. 

Merlin put a covered plate in front of Arthur. The scent of bacon wafted upwards. 

 

“Just to be clear” Merlin said “I am making you breakfast because I love you and not as an apology or anything like that” He looked at Arthur with narrowed eyes. “ Cos I’m not apologising” 

 

Arthur nodded. It sounded fair. He had no intention of backing down either. Plus he got bacon. And toast. 

 

“Me too” he said. “Your shirt. Ironed. Me too” 

 

Merlin beamed at him and poured tea. 

“So” he said conversationally “Would anyone like to explain why the bathroom door looks as if it was attacked by werewolves?” 

Arthur laughed and casually opened the newspaper beside his plate. He always got all the main dailies delivered and even at the height of the floods his papers had arrived on the doormat. Usually they stayed there but Merlin must have been feeling generous. Arthur glanced down and sputtered his tea over the table. 

 

There, on the front page of The Times was a picture of Arthur, wading through the flood with Grumbles in his arms. 

He read the Heading hurriedly then opened the next paper. All of them had the same picture. The headlines varied from “Hands-on MP takes on Floods” to “For the love of Dog!”. Arthur looked up to find Merlin staring anxiously at him. 

 

“So much for a low profile” Arthur said as his phone began to ring....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The references here are to the Doctor Who episode "The Girl Who Waited" which I defy anyone who knows the characters not to cry when watching. 
> 
> The other is from Winnie The Pooh In Which Piglet is Surrounded by Water. In my head canon Winnie the Pooh was Arthur's comfort read when he was a child. He saw himself as Christopher Robin.


	23. Five pictures and a story

Sqch23

 

The picture went viral. Within days it became an Internet meme, with people adding captions or comments. Merlin took great glee in telling Arthur of the funniest ones and Arthur was half convinced that Merlin wrote some of them.

Where the original photograph came from was explained when a shame-faced Marlene showed up with Evie in tow. 

 

“I just wanted a picture of Grumbles” Evie explained “But then Sarah’s sister put it on her Facebook cos it was hot – but it wasn’t hot it was very cold and scary” 

 

Marlene hugged her sister and Arthur ruffled Evie’s hair. “Does it still scare you?” he asked.

 

Evie shook her head “Nah. You’d pick me up again. You and Grum” 

 

Merlin grinned at Arthur over Evie’s head. “No pressure!” he said lightly as he went to get biscuits and milk for Evie. Merlin went on to explain to her the importance of not taking someone’s picture unless they knew about it and said yes. Evie didn’t get it, explaining with ballistic crumbs that Grumbles really liked being looked at. 

 

When Marlene and Evie had gone Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur. “I think you’ve lost the Under-Seven demographic” he whispered in a dramatic tone. 

“I’m okay with that” Arthur replied in an equally dramatic whisper, then added in a normal tone.

“All that matters is that I count with a dark-haired Ulsterman” 

Merlin tightened his hold. “I’ll be a grey-haired Ulsterman if you do that again. I knew what happened that day, but seeing that picture..., your face... the strain on your face...” he huffed a breath. “It scared the hell out of me, Arthur.” Merlin stopped and feigned a lighter tone and pulled away slightly do he could look at Arthur “So if you wouldn’t mind I’d be very grateful if you could avoid bringing our dog into dangerous situations – it’s bad for his nerves” he said. Arthur smiled but did not promise. Merlin did not ask him to. 

 

Clarissa was much less understanding. “ Timing is everything in politics” she announced, as she stalked into the house unexpectedly. “Had we that picture going into the last campaign we wouldn’t have had to knock on so many doors. Every dog lover in the county would have voted for you regardless of politics” she said as she sat down in Arthur’s study. “Now, it looks like an attention grab from a needy MP” 

 

Arthur tried to defend himself but Clarissa handwaved it away. “It doesn’t matter how the story and picture got in the public domain. The fact is, Fraser will see it as an opening salvo and will be wary. And it will not help your case in getting support”

 

Arthur knew that was true. The MPs he was hoping to woo were those whose loyalty was earned not bought. They stayed with Fraser because they had no reason not to, and Arthur knew, after his actions in coming Out and resigning his seat, it would take time to convince them that he was worthy of their trust. They were not the sort to be impressed with Internet celebrity. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Grumbles was in the next image – but it did not make the press. 

It was a picture of Grumbles on the beach at Doonshee. 

 

Merlin had arranged his holidays long before the floods but serendipity meant that he could take them just as the clean up was ending. His ‘Discussion’ with his bosses had resulted in an agreement to retrospectively approve the plan. His immediate superior pulled him aside. 

 

“Truth is” he had said “The ambulance service is the one thing coming out of this mess smelling of roses. No one wants to scupper a Good Thing” 

 

To celebrate (and to recuperate) Merlin wanted to go to Doonshee. 

Arthur was reluctant to go to Doonshee – so far from the pulse of things, but when Merlin stated firmly that he would hogtie Arthur and bring him over in Grumbles’ dog box he gave in. When Merlin got that determined glint in his eye, anything was possible.

 

The first stage of the renovations of The Palace had been completed and habitable. There were still a few builders’ snags but compared to having the ceiling fall on top of them it was nothing. The two rooms of the original cottage had been made into one large kitchen/living room while a new extension, perpendicular to the original building contained a bedroom suite, complete with doors on to what would eventually be a courtyard. Grumbles wandered around the still- small house, found the most comfortable places to lie down and grudgingly allowed it to be called home. On their first evening there, Merlin lit a fire in the restored fireplace – even though it was summer there was chill in the air. Grumbles gave a great sigh as the flames rose, stretching out in front of the fire and hogging the heat. 

 

They hadn’t got around to buying furniture yet, so Merlin, avoiding the garden chair that was set out for him, gingerly lowered himself to the rug on the floor, displacing Grumbles with a careful foot. Arthur noted his movements and settled himself behind Merlin, pulling him back to settle back against chest. 

 

“Leg stiff?” Arthur inquired. He felt Merlin shrug slightly. 

 

“It was a long drive” Merlin conceded and changed the subject to joke about their lack of furniture. Arthur had grown used to Merlin’s deflections, as good as any politician’s. When Merlin didn't want to talk, he became the clown. Arthur loved the clown, but he had learned to look beneath the jokes. He held Merlin until he felt the head on his shoulder droop and the tension ease out of the body in his arms. 

 

The next day Arthur was sent to the village for breakfast food (“How could we forget to pack food when we finally have a kitchen!”). The Grocery store was still the same but he saw changes in Doonshee. The Colaiste had not opened that summer but there were more surfers around which kept the village lively. A new surf shop had opened and Arthur browsed. 

 

When he came out he had made an impulsive purchase. He said nothing to Merlin when came back with the bacon (literally) but later that day when his purchase was delivered he had to face him. 

“What did you do?” Merlin demanded, looking at the distinctively shaped package. 

 

Arthur tried an innocent look. “It’s a present?” he suggested. 

Merlin sighed, as if dealing with a child. It was an approach he often used with Arthur and it tended to make Arthur want to do something really annoying. 

 

“It is not Christmas, Arthur. It is not my birthday. Why are you getting me a present?” 

 

“Anniversary?” Arthur tried rubbing his hand over the back of his neck in an obvious sign of nerves. 

 

Merlin gave him a glare. “We don’t do Anniversaries, remember?” he said firmly. 

 

Arthur gave up. “Oh for God’s sake, just open it” he said. Merlin gave him an ‘I –know-what-it-is look and then unwrapped the ‘present’. 

“Oh” Merlin said. 

“You sit on it” Arthur said helpfully. “you can surf on it, sitting down. There’s a paddle...” 

Merlin was looking at him and Arthur wasn’t sure he could read his mood. 

Merlin gave him the sideways look. “You know don’t have to keep trying to give surfing back to me, you know” he said firmly. “You didn’t take it from me and I can live without it” 

Arthur wanted to say that he didn't want Merlin to live without it but he didn't. He just shrugged and said “Well, if you don’t want to...” He reached for the wave ski

Merlin made grabby hands. “No!” He said loudly enough to startle Grumbles asleep in a spot of sunlight. “Want to go to the beach?” 

 

They processed to the beach and Merlin changed into a wet suit. Arthur decided that was something he would never tire of seeing and judging from Merlin’s knowing grin, the feeling was mutual. 

 

Grumbles though, was less than impressed. He had his lifejacket on, as usual and he looked at Merlin with some suspicion. He was used to sailing with his humans but there was no sailing boat here. Merlin walked into the sea, carrying his board and paddle and as he breasted the waves to go deeper Grumbles cast a look of incredulous disdain at Arthur. 

 

Arthur had to hold back laugh and instead of taking a picture of Merlin he clicked on one of Grumbles. The expression was a mixture of ‘What fools these mortals be’ and ‘WTF?’ and the picture became one of Arthur’s favourites. He could even understand some of Grumbles’ astonishment. This was Merlin, who liked his shower just this side of scalding and always stood to one side to let the water get warms, toes curled up to minimise contact with the cold water, striding into the freezing Atlantic with every sign of enjoyment. Grumbles may well be shocked. 

 

Arthur had the evidence of why Merlin risked the cold when he came back, his eyes shining with triumph. 

“I rode the waves!” Merlin said to Arthur, then turning back to the sea he shouted “You are still mine!” and punched the air. 

“Merlin? Did you just challenge the sea” Arthur said in his You-Are-An-Idiot tone. Merlin spun to see him, eyes laughing. 

“No, I claimed her” he said joyfully “I Re-claimed her”. He tugged Arthur close. “Thank you” he said hugging Arthur tightly. Grumbles growled quietly and Merlin giggled. Arthur gave him a mock glare. 

“I think you are high on adrenaline, Merlin” he said sternly. Merlin giggled again. 

 

“I’m high on Doonshee” Merlin leaned his head on Arthur. “Do you remember our first summer here? I was so scared and uncertain about everything – but we are here and you are mine and ..” He sighed happily and Arthur felt his joy. He remembered standing on this beach and feeling his future balance on a grain of sand. Standing here now, watching the evening sun glitter on lazy waves he felt a sense of the rightness of the Universe wash over him. This was the future he had made on that long-ago night and it was good. He relished the moment. 

Right until Grumbles gave a loud fart and startled himself so much Arthur had to comfort the affronted dog and Merlin had to sit down he was laughing so hard. It seemed that they couldn't sustain a Hollywood moment, even with the perfect setting. 

 

The next day they went back to the beach and, before tackling the waves, Merlin gave Arthur a brown paper bag. 

“Present” he said lightly. 

“You didn't have...” Arthur began automatically then looked in the bag. “Merlin did you give me a bucket and spade?” 

“Two buckets and a spade” said Merlin happily. “Because one of the buckets has those sticky out things to make the top of a castle” 

“I am not building sandcastles, Merlin” Arthur said firmly. Merlin just grinned at him and headed for the ocean – to the accompaniment of Grumbles loud bark. 

 

“I am not building sandcastles” Arthur repeated as Grumbles huffed and sat down beside him. Arthur looked around. Although it was summer it was chilly and the beach was deserted except for the surfers at the waves edge and beyond. He took out the spade and two buckets. “I am not building sandcastles” .The tone was not quite as firm. Grumbles gave a long growly complaint. Arthur sat down on the sand. 

 

Arthur didn’t notice Merlin’s return some time later until a pair of bare feet appeared right in front of him. “Careful!” he yelped “You’ll cave in the lower courtyard!” He looked up to see Merlin’s eyes twinkling at him. 

 

“That’s some castle” Merlin said in appreciation. In truth Arthur was quite proud of it. He had excavated a great edifice, with towers (including battlements) and arches overlooking interlocking courtyards. He even had steps carefully carved in damp sand. He grinned at Merlin a little ruefully, conscious of a slight blush in his cheeks. 

“I made a sandcastle” he said with a mixture of embarrassment and shock.. 

 

“We need to take a photograph” Merlin said with admiration, and when Arthur looked at him with surprise he added “Everyone gets a photograph of their first castle. You should ask Mum to show you mine. Nothing like this of course, but I was only five so there was some excuse” 

 

Arthur felt strange. “How did you know it was my first sandcastle” he asked with some embarrassment. 

Merlin smiled his slow, rich, smile that made Arthur feel both like an honoured king and a well loved child. 

“I knew” Merlin said softly. There was no censure, just understanding in his voice and Arthur relaxed. 

“I made something good” he said, knowing he sounded like a little boy seeking praise and not ashamed of that. . 

“You did” said Merlin and the little boy that Arthur never was basked in the praise. 

The picture of the sandcastle was kept and added to the memories of Doonshee. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
There was no photograph of the next image but it was seared on Arthur’s memory. It was Merlin’s face as he looked up from a pile of letters after their return to Abbotsmead. 

 

“I’ve been demoted” he said, his voice breaking. Arthur grabbed the letter from Merlin’s nerveless hands. 

 

It was blunt and to the point. As a result of serious insubordination Merlin was no longer a senior dispatcher. 

 

Arthur looked up from the letter. “I thought this was sorted?” he said, more to himself. Merlin shrugged fatalistically. 

 

“They changed their minds” he said “It’s their right. As you said I did ignore the rules” 

 

Arthur cringed at having his ideas reflected back in such circumstances. “It’s not right” he said but Merlin’s face had closed off. 

 

“It doesn’t matter” Merlin said “I’d do it again if I had to but I have to accept the consequences.” 

 

Arthur hated that Merlin sounded like him but no matter what he said he could not persuade Merlin to fight the decision. Finally Merlin snapped. 

 

“You had your whole world pulled from you because of a decision you made” Merlin barked when Arthur tried another futile approach to push Merlin to fight. “Don’t you think I can survive just like you?” 

 

Arthur remembered how close he came to deep depression. “I nearly broke” he said quietly. 

 

“I won’t” Merlin said and though Arthur knew that Merlin was stronger than he had ever been he worried at this confidence until Merlin added “I have you” and Arthur realised with a burst of fear that Merlin’s confidence was centred on him. It scared him. 

 

Merlin adapted to his new schedule and job description. He found it frustrating to see his replacement struggle with logistical scenarios he found easy and winced as Ambulance response time went up when ambulances were in the wrong place. He found it ironic that his employers had to make provision for the limited motor function in his hand given that it would have stopped him getting the job in the first place. It gave him a small sense of restitution.

 

Arthur stayed angry. 

 

Arthur wondered about why the Service seemed to have changed its decision on Merlin. There was no smoking gun. Sometime two weeks after speaking to Merlin and saying the matter was settled, the letter with disciplinary penalties had been sent. Merlin refused to ask for a paper trail but Arthur wanted to investigate. 

 

Searching the timeline all Arthur could find was a special report on the floods published in the local paper. It devoted two paragraphs to the Ambulance service and its emergency response and mentioned Merlin by name. In the last line it reminded readers that Merlin was the partner of local MP Arthur Pendragon. 

It wasn't much to go on but it was enough to give Arthur a whole journey of speculation. 

 

Arthur knew that a Prime Minister would never overtly interfere in such a local matter. He also knew how effective a timed pause or a raised eyebrow could be in indicating wishes. There was no proof that Fraser had had anything to do with Merlin’s demotion and Arthur knew there never would be. Nevertheless he was convinced that, after the flood photo publicity, this was Fraser’s first shot - and it wasn’t across the bow – this was meant to hurt. 

 

As Merlin didn’t want to protest the decision, Arthur did not discuss it with anyone. He was therefore surprised when Clarissa brought up the topic during a routine one on one meeting.

 

“I hear your boy is in trouble” she said casually as she sipped her coffee. Arthur bristled with indignation. 

“Firstly, Merlin is not a boy” he snapped “and secondly...” He did not get the chance to finish. 

“Whoa! Cowboy! Get off your high horse!” Clarissa was amused. “I heard what happened – Shame.” She looked shrewdly at him. “Do you think it came from Above?” 

Arthur sighed. “Probably. But there will be no proof” 

 

“Of course not. Fraser didn’t get where he is by leaving bodies around. So what are you going to do?” Clarissa tapped her pink nails on the coffee cup as she spoke. 

 

“Merlin doesn’t want anything done” 

Clarissa gave her brittle laugh. “I could have predicted that. He’s too Nice. You too, Arthur, you know all the twist and cheats of the political game but you are too Nice to use them. Fraser isn’t”  
“Merlin has his reasons” Arthur hoped his tone indicated that he wanted to end the conversation. Clarissa smiled and changed the subject. 

 

A week later Merlin stormed into the house, Grumbles fleeing out of his way as he shouted from the hallway. 

 

“Did you do this?” Merlin snapped as he threw down a newspaper onto Arthur’s desk. “I asked you not to do anything!” 

 

Arthur picked up the paper, folded to an inside page. A Headline jumped out at him.  
‘DEMOTED FOR BEING ON TIME’  
The story which followed told of Merlin’s demotion and gave a recap of how his idea had worked during the flood. The writer brought up Merlin’s connection with Arthur and queried the possibility of a political motive. 

 

Arthur looked up. “I didn’t know about this, Merlin”. Merlin was still glaring. 

 

“This is as bad as Belfast. I’ll be the snitch again” Merlin slumped down into a chair. “I was just fitting in, belonging and...” He let his voice trail off and wiped his face with his shaking hand. “I didn’t want a fuss” he said quietly. 

 

Arthur went around the desk and put his arms around Merlin. It took some time before Merlin relaxed and leaned into his embrace. 

“I believe you didn’t” Merlin said. “I just... I hate being in the papers and I hate that they bring politics into my work.” 

 

Arthur tightened his hold but did not say that, as Arthur’s partner, Merlin could always be caught up in political speculation. 

There was a pathetic whine from the doorway. 

 

Merlin groaned. “I shouted at Grumbles. I am a Bad Person” At his name Grumbles crept in to the room, belly low, and made his way to Merlin’s side. “I’m sorry” murmured Merlin fondling an ear in apology. 

 

“I’m sorry too” Arthur said and Merlin looked at him sharply. Arthur raised an eyebrow at him and Merlin relaxed again. “ I’m not responsible for this article and I regret it because I know you don’t like being the focus of publicity but Merlin? I don’t regret that other people think that you deserve more. So...” 

 

“So stop being a Prima Donna and go make you a sandwich?” Merlin quipped with a glint in his eye that may have been humour and may have been tears. Arthur went with humour. 

 

“You can’t be a Prima Donna” he drawled “You don’t have the build for it. And I like to make my own sandwiches.” 

 

Merlin grinned and pulled him in for a kiss. Grumbles growled happily. 

 

The next day Arthur confronted Clarissa. “What did you know about this” He said throwing down the newspaper as Merlin had done. 

 

Clarissa read it infuriatingly slowly then looked up, a calculating look behind her wide-eyed expression. “I know it was coming, of course. I did say I heard about your Merlin.” 

 

“I said not to do anything” Arthur said angrily. “Why didn’t you stop it” 

 

Clarissa shrugged. “You overestimate my pull with the press, Sweetie.” 

Arthur did not believe it but knew that arguing with Clarissa was like making a sandcastle. You could put in lots of work but there would be nothing left in the morning. He sighed. “Merlin was hurt” he said. 

 

Clarissa looked at him with sympathy. “I am sorry about that” she said “It will get worse, you know” 

 

“So what was the point of this ” Arthur asked “If Fraser was involved it will never come out” 

 

Clarissa looked pensive “The point, my dear Arthur is that right now, some medium and minor officials in the chain of command are wondering if Fraser’s patronage is worth as much as they thought. A tiny seed of doubt maybe, but still more than was there yesterday. You need that.” She brightened slightly “And, ironically your...” she hesitated a little then smiled broadly “Your young man will find his job is safe, at least from any political shenanigans. The hint of potential political intrigue in the article was vague and could be from anywhere – but if anything else happens, questions will be asked.” She patted Arthur’s arm in reassurance “He’s not out of it – but it should help” 

 

Arthur wasn’t sure if he agreed with her assessment but he bowed to her knowledge. “What now?” he said, anger deflated. 

Clarissa patted his hand again. “We write this one off as a draw” she said “And you get ready for battle when Parliament is recalled” 

Arthur was grateful for her confidence but did not share it. He knew that his task when he returned after the summer recess would be gargantuan. More and more, a sick feeling in his gut told him that he would eventually have to turn to Plan B.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got completely stuck at the end of this so rather than keep trying to rewrite I cut off the end. I know this slows down the story again and I apologise. I know what happens but seeing the details is like looking through a fog - everything is vague until there is a sudden moment of clarity and I think "that's it - that's how it happened". But when that moment doesn't strike there are just words on a screen and no matter how I rewrite and rewrite it isn't how it happened. I have learned: if it's hard to write it's because it's not what happened. 
> 
> This is a rambling apology for delays


	24. Strange Meeting

Sqch24 

A spiteful rain pushed sideways, getting under Merlin’s jacket as he trudged from the bus stop at the end of High Street towards his home. Not for the first time he cursed the deceptive hill in Abbotsmead as he felt his leg stiffening. A long hot bath was definitely in his future. The wind shifted and Merlin got a blast of rain in the face. It was typical of his luck these days that the one day in the year Matilda was being serviced the weather was horrible. And to make matters worse the house he was heading towards would be empty. 

Arthur was back in Westminster, back to all the deals and political manoeuvring that Merlin struggled to keep up with. Sometimes, when he was tired and grumpy and fed up with himself, he wished that Arthur had kept up a career in academic editing. Merlin loved his go-get-em Arthur but when his energy was low, the idea of being with a scholar was an attractive option. 

Merlin slogged on up the hill. There wouldn’t even be a woofly welcome for him when he got in. And, yes, Grumbles was Arthur’s dog – or more specifically, Arthur belonged to Grumbles – but Merlin had become accustomed to undivided canine attention. A dog, any dog, had the talent of making you feel like the most wonderful human in the world and, when work was frustrating and wearying, Merlin appreciated that because his job was frustrating – even more so now. He had to watch as Kevin, the well-meaning dispatcher who took his place, fumbled his way through the logistics. Merlin had even passed Kevin a note today giving a heads up on the location of an ambulance. He knew it was unprofessional but Kevin was drowning and it was slowly killing Merlin to see his hard won response times going up. 

 

So getting home to a welcome would be – welcome- even if it had paws and drooled. And Okay, so maybe he would appreciate having Arthur’s arms around him a little more but a doggy welcome was not to be sneezed at.  
Except he wouldn’t have a doggy welcome because Arthur had taken Grumbles to London.  
To a beauty parlour. (‘It’s not a beauty parlour, Merlin, It’s a grooming parlour’).  
Merlin was quite sure it was possible to find someone in Abbotsmead who could brush Grumbles’ coat. In fact, he was very sure that there would be many someones if the search were expanded to the county. He would even do it himself, though Grumbles tended to complain when burrs got caught in his fur. But Arthur was insistent on a London salon.  
And all because of the TV. 

 

Arthur had been invited on TV. For one who had been known to cow Jeremy Paxman, Arthur was irrationally excited by this. Strangely this could, in part, be because he was not the actual invitee, Grumbles was. A well known Children’s Programme had seen the pictures of Grumbles’ rescue and had invited Grumbles on air, with Arthur as plus one. Arthur was thrilled. He said it was because he could get one over on the Whip’s office, to whom all TV appearances had to be reported. “But I haven’t been invited” he gloated to Merlin “So I can just turn up” Merlin thought he was being deliberately obtuse but he trusted Arthur to know what he was doing. And Arthur really wanted to be on the show. “May be they’ll give me a badge” he said hopefully before he left. “I really wanted one as a kid but it wasn’t cool enough”. Merlin had tutted, hovered, patted and kissed both of them (Grumbles’ kiss was more of a face rub) and sent them on their way. 

He hoped Arthur got his badge. He deserved a Nice Thing. 

 

Arthur had been under a lot of stress since Parliament had resumed. He was still isolated but now the dislike of the Prime Minister became more obvious. This was shown when the compensation package for flood victims was announced. The North East, which had also had severe floods, got the bulk of the money. Arthur had his suspicions but was prepared to accept that they needed it. A pointed comment by a Fraser-loyalist minister changed his mind. When asked about the imbalance, the minister said that “They simply presented a more convincing case”. The phrased was picked up by the local press who put up photographs of flooded land asking what made them less convincing. Implied in their articles was criticism of Arthur for not working harder on their behalf. 

Merlin, who knew how hard Arthur had worked on the submission to the compensation group was incensed but could do nothing. 

 

As he walked up the High Street, shoulders hunched against the wind, Merlin became aware of a black car keeping pace with him. Since the nearest Abbotsmead came to soliciting was Mrs. Glossup standing at the side of the road on the Friday evening demanding a lift to Bingo, kerb-crawling was not a Thing. That meant that the car was for him. 

 

Merlin’s imagination took off – and not in a positive direction. In no literary or cinematic model he could think of was being followed by a black car with tinted windows A Good Thing. In fact, from his viewing, the best he could hope for was an over-protective but slightly creepy older brother. He resented both that his leg was bad enough to make running not an option and too good for him to need a crutch. A large metal stick would be very comforting right now. 

“Get in the car” 

While Merlin had been musing the car window had rolled down. The face which looked at him with a demanding expression was familiar from magazines and newspapers and always reminded Merlin a little of a character in one of his favourite shows. He generally found this disconcerting as he liked the character and he disliked Uther Pendragon. 

“Mr. Balinson, Get. In. The Car.” 

 

Merlin realised he had stopped and was probably gaping. He shook his head and resumed walking. This was usually the point in stories when two goons would slip out of the shadows and either knock out the unwilling passenger or pull a gun on him. 

 

The shadows remained surprisingly empty. 

 

“I want to talk to you. Get in the car!” Uther Pendragon sounded exasperated and Merlin could hear echoes of Arthur’s tone when he was frustrated. Stopping mid step he turned to the car. 

 

“My front door is ten metres that way” he pointed with his head “If you want to talk you can come to my front door like an ordinary person”. He strode off, pride ensuring that he did not drag his weak leg. When he got to the house he worked hard not to fumble his keys and stepped into the hallway with some relief. He was quite surprised to find Uther Pendragon had exited the car and was standing on the step. 

 

For a blistering nanosecond Merlin wondered if homophobic fathers-in-law were like vampires and had to be invited in. He gloried in the possibility of leaving him on the doorstep but said “Come in” just before Uther stepped over the threshold. It gave him a tiny rush of power which was counter-balanced by a flood of terror at having Uther Pendragon in his house. 

 

They stared at each other for what seemed like minutes but wasn’t even a second as Merlin tried to remember how to breathe. Ironically it was the sight of Grumbles’ well chewed and quite shredded tennis ball lying in a corner which grounded him. This was his home, his kingdom. Uther had no power here. He was a guest, entering on Merlin’s whim. Merlin relaxed slightly, though he was still at Def Con 2. He would not lower his guard too much. 

 

There was still the problem of what to do with Uther-the-(unwanted)-guest. They rarely had unexpected visitors in Abbotsmead. Expected guests meant that unwarranted stuff (like chewed tennis balls) could be swept out of sight and the rooms were respectable. Unexpected visitors were either to see Arthur, in which case they went into the study, or were friends and would be okay with the kitchen. Uther fit none of these categories. Merlin hesitated at the door of the sitting room. When they had guests it was spruced up to Drawing Room status but otherwise... He poked his head in and just as quickly pulled it out, shutting the door firmly behind him. Last night had been pizza and movie night – which had evolved into Put-The Dog-In-Kitchen-Have-Passionate-Sex-On-The-Sofa-Night. When they had eventually adjourned upstairs they had left everything behind. Uther already had issues – he didn’t need more. Merlin sighed and led the way to the Kitchen. 

 

He nodded to a chair at the table. “I am going to make tea” he said, quite proud of his firm tone. “You sit there and when I have made it, you can talk” To Merlin’s surprise, Uther sat. 

 

Merlin bustled , making tea and conscious of Uther’s silent gaze. Uther raised an eyebrow when Merlin produced three mugs. 

“For your driver.” Merlin said in answer to the eyebrow “Does he take milk and sugar?” 

 

“I have no idea” Uther drawled “And that is quite unnecessary. 

 

“I decide that” Merlin said, picking up a tray and heading up the hall to the front door. The chauffeur was grateful for the tea but Merlin panicked briefly at the realisation that he had left Uther Pendragon alone in his house. He practically ran back- retaining his dignity only as he entered the kitchen. 

 

“For future reference” he said “He takes milk , no sugar” 

 

Uther glared at him, his non-interest in his driver’s tea preferences very obvious. “Enough of this nonsense. I want to talk to you” 

 

“I got that” Merlin said “And I assume you know Arthur is not here?” 

 

Uther ignored the implied question. “What do you know of Martin Black?” he barked. 

 

Merlin hesitated. “Is this a trick question?” he asked 

 

“I don’t stoop to tricks” Uther replied and Merlin snorted in response. That all depended on what you called tricks. 

 

“If you mean Martin, Arthur’s former secretary who you allowed to blackmail you” Merlin said slowly “That’s all I know. I don’t remember if I even met the man – but you did ” 

 

Uther gave a grim smile. “I see my son told you” 

 

“We do talk. It’s normal in relationships” Merlin met Uther’s smile, very politely Not Saying so much more. 

 

“Then you know that I arranged for Martin Black to get a job in my organisation in return for his silence on... certain issues” 

 

“I didn’t know the details” Merlin said “Arthur was rather caught up in other matters at the time” Like the fact that his father had just disowned him – Merlin did not say it but allowed the bitterness bleed through into his tone. 

 

“Martin Black has been fired” Uther said, staring into his cup. Merlin tried to work out what were the implications of that but Uther continued speaking. “This tea is terrible – have you anything stronger – and I don’t mean cheap bear” 

 

Merlin looked at Uther, who was clutching the mug with tense fingers. “Should you even be taking alcohol?” he asked. Uther gave him a sharp look. 

“So he told you that too” he said. Merlin shrugged in reply. “No, the doctors say I shouldn’t. I say fuck the doctors I want brandy” 

 

Merlin went to the drinks cabinet in the adjoining dining room. “Bring the bottle” Uther called after him “I want to see what drivel I’m drinking” . Merlin unceremoniously plonked the bottle in front of him and Uther spent an insulting few seconds examining the label. “Not bad” he said grudgingly pouring a generous glass. 

 

“Arthur stocks the drinks cupboard” Merlin said absently 

“My son has good taste...” Uther paused and took a sip “In brandy” he added pointedly. Merlin ignored the jibe. Uther gestured towards the bottle “Are you having one?” 

“I don’t drink” Merlin said, fighting to keep his temper. 

“Are you an Alcoholic?” Uther said calmly, taking another sip. 

“Are you always an asshole?” Merlin replied, losing the temper battle.

Uther gave a grim smile as though he was happy to have pushed Merlin to respond. “You’re rude” 

“You’re sitting at my table” Merlin snapped

“My son’s table” 

This time Merlin smiled. “You’ve obviously a lot to learn about partnership” 

“Is this why you’re with him? For the money, the possessions? I can offer you more to go away” 

 

Merlin spluttered over his cooling tea. “Now You are rude” he snapped “And you’ve seen too many old movies. I’m not a silly girl from the wrong side of the tracks who can be bought off. I would be with Arthur if he had nothing. If he was homeless I’d live on the streets with him. And what’s more, he would do the same so don’t think you can flash your chequebook and get rid of me” 

Merlin heard his voice getting louder as he spoke but he didn’t care. He felt a sense of righteous anger at Uther’s casual comment but more than that he felt the total truth of what he had said in reply. Maybe for the first time he acknowledged that he had complete confidence in Arthur’s love for him. He still wasn’t able to believe that he was worthy of that love but he knew it existed. Uther could not break it. He was tempted to demand that Uther leave but something was niggling at him about the man in front of him and he couldn’t work out what. 

 

Plus he knew his mother would metaphorically kill him if he did. For Mrs. Balinson family was family and you put up with them. 

 

Uther looked rather taken aback by Merlin’s outburst and looked ready to reply when a spasm took hold of him. His face grimaced in pain and, with a shaking hand he threw another measure of brandy into the glass. 

 

For the first time Merlin felt something akin to pity for Uther. 

 

Uther drank down most of the glass and his face resumed its usual Part-constipated, Part- angry look. Merlin wondered if the man could smile and what it would look like. 

 

Uther stared at the un-exceptional glass he was holding “My son was normal before he met you” 

 

“Your son is normal now.” Merlin said, his tone soft but his words firm. You’re the one with issues”

 

“You corrupted him” Uther snarled into his brandy glass. Merlin had a sudden memory from the night before of Arthur, predatory gleam in his eye, leaning over Merlin, mostly naked and thoroughly debauched. 

 

“It’s mutual” he murmured. Uther did not hear him and Merlin was glad of that. Any explanations would be embarrassing. Suddenly tired of playing, Merlin got to the point. 

 

“Why are you here, Mr. Pendragon.? What’s the real reason?” 

 

Uther looked cross. He stared at Merlin and took another drink before speaking. Merlin marvelled at how much alcohol he could put away without losing the ability to glare. 

 

With irritation Uther said “I told you why. Martin Black has been fired. He could cause trouble for Arthur” 

 

Merlin commended himself on remaining calm – at least on the outside “Why aren’t you talking to Arthur?” he said. 

 

“Because my son is a noble fool and would go straight to the public with the whole story, ruining himself in the process. Again” 

 

Merlin had to agree that Arthur would do that but he was still puzzled “What do you expect me to do?” he asked.

Uther looked at the glass and filled it again. “Persuade him.” he said with careful enunciation. “Make sure he doesn’t do anything. I had thought, you being from Ulster, you might have experience in frightening people” 

 

Taking a sip, he gave Merlin a sardonic look over the rim of the glass which weighed Merlin carefully and very definitely found him wanting. “Seeing you now, I realise that my plan is not going to work” 

 

Merlin didn’t know whether he should be insulted by the assumption that being from Northern Ireland made him a terrorist or the implication that he was not capable of being terrifying at all. 

Either way, he was pretty sure he had been insulted. 

 

“The village idiot look is very you” Uther remarked and Merlin realised his mouth was open. He shut it with a snap and decided to attack. 

 

“If you’re that worried, why did you fire him then?” he snapped out. 

 

Uther gave him another judgemental stare. “I had nothing to do with him. I simply found a place for him and left him there. He obviously did not do the job required” 

 

“But couldn’t you have made it clear that...” 

“You mean couldn’t I put a ‘Do not fire, this man is blackmailing me’ notice on his file?” Uther said sarcastically “Don’t be even more of an idiot then you already are” 

 

Merlin sighed. “ I think Arthur picked up quite a lot from you” he murmured. Reaching for the mostly empty bottle of brandy he poured a little into his cup.

“I thought you said you don’t drink” Uther was scathing. 

“You’re driving me to it” Merlin said, taking a drink. Moments later he was spluttering out. “God! That tastes awful. Why do people drink that?” 

 

“You have no taste” Uther said, pouring the last of the brandy into his glass. “I don’t know what my son sees in you” 

 

Merlin stared at the bottle and regretted that he just couldn’t get over the taste enough to get drunk. Being drunk seemed to be the most sane way of dealing with the fact that Uther Pendragon was still sitting at his kitchen table. 

He decided honesty was the best he go for. “I have no idea why Arthur wants me” he said in a softer tone than he intended “But I love him enough to respect that he knows his own heart and...” 

 

Merlin stopped as the niggle at the back of his mind came to the fore with total clarity. Uther referred to Arthur as ‘My Son’. For most fathers this was normal but given that Uther had effectively disowned his son and had only begun to take tentative steps to rebuild bridges, it was significant. 

 

“I think you love him too” Merlin said quietly. “I think that’s why you are here” 

 

Uther scoffed. “Love is for people who can’t make it in business. It’s what they use as a consolation prize for not being successful. I don’t need it” 

 

Merlin didn’t argue, he simply shrugged. “Arthur’s worth loving” he said. 

 

Uther waved the empty bottle. “He’s gay” he said. 

 

Merlin shrugged again. He had a feeling that there would be a lot of shrugging in his future." I noticed" he said “ But it's only an issue if you want it to be” he said. 

 

Uther looked at him narrowly. “How did your parents react?” he asked bluntly. 

Merlin told him. It included two bathroom breaks, the finding of a serious bottle of Scotch (“Glenfiddich! I knew I trained him well”) as well as other bottles and the discovery that Merlin quite liked Chartreuse, partly because he got to stare at his glass and say “It’s green” even if Uther didn’t get the reference. When he finished there was silence. 

 

“So you have perfect parents” Uther said finally his face impassive “Arthur must love them” 

 

“He does” Merlin said. Merlin noticed things, and he had noticed how Uther reacted to physical pain. This hurt him. And Merlin refused to twist the knife and he added “You’re his Dad though”  
Uther harrumphed and sipped his whisky his face still showing no emotion. Merlin wondered at his capacity. He was still capable of coherent speech while Merlin – one small glass in – was finding coherent thought a struggle. He decided to switch to water. 

 

There was a ring at the door bell and Merlin wavered upwards to answer it. It took him a moment to figure out which way to go and Uther sniggered quietly. Retaining as much dignity as he could, Merlin opened the door. 

 

Uther’s driver stood on the step and Merlin felt guilty for forgetting him while they .. imbibed. 

 

“Mr Pendragon needs his medication” the man said stoically and Merlin appreciated the courage it took to say that to Uther Pendragon. He became aware by the staring eyes of the driver that said Uther Pendragon was behind him. He shrugged. The gesture was becoming a habit. 

“No” said Uther. 

“Mrs. Pendragon was quite insistent” the driver said, earning respect from Merlin. He plastered himself to the wall to avoid the coming confrontation. 

 

Uther dramatically sighed. “Oh all right. Give it here. I’ll take it”. This time Merlin was conscious of doing a guppy impression as Uther took the medication from the driver. 

 

“Do you want me to park up or...” the driver asked and Merlin, channelling his mother, broke in. 

 

“You can stay. Both of you. We have room.” 

 

“There is an Inn, Sir, “ the driver said formally.

 

Uther waved his hand. “Padgett can take the Inn” he said dismissively and went back to the whisky. Merlin stood in the hallway with the sudden realisation that he had just asked his father in law to stay overnight and more importantly, Uther had agreed. The driver, Padgett, gave him a sympathetic grin as he headed towards the door. Merlin shut the door after him, turned back with what he knew was maniacal smile and walked back to the kitchen. 

 

“So” he said brightly. “Dinner” 

 

“Do you cook?” Uther asked. Merlin shook his head. “Staff?” Merlin shook his head again. 

“Arthur” he said brightly. “but there are takeaways” Uther sighed deeply. 

 

“I like Chinese” he said glumly. 

 

One Chinese meal later (and most of the whisky), Merlin had learned that Uther had been in a band when he was sixteen and had been a fan of Doctor Who in the early incarnations.(Merlin wished that Arthur knew that – it mattered). Uther criticised the food and the decor and seemed happy. Merlin managed to clean up the sitting room (including air freshener while Uther used the bathroom and would have felt like a teenager except for the fact that Teenage Merlin never did the things he and Arthur had done last night. He even lit the fire and put on a movie. 

 

He was smiling over his memory and rearranging the cushions when his phone rang. Rushing into kitchen it got to it before Uther answered. 

 

“It’s Arthur” he said unnecessarily and took the call. 

 

It was not the easiest phone call in the long history of their awkward calls. For a start it took a while to convince Arthur that his father was actually there, though why he would think Merlin would make that up Merlin would never understand. 

 

Then it took some time to convince Arthur that neither of them had attempted to kill the other and that, in fact, murder was not an option (at least not on each other – Merlin was still a little worried about Uther’s intentions for Martin). 

 

Merlin avoided the Martin part of the story but his telling of the rest made Arthur realise he was very possible tipsy and that fuelled a whole new level of angst ridden speech. Arthur insisted that he was coming home, even though it was late and the weather had moved from very unpleasant to ‘driving conditions hazardous’. Finally Merlin had to put his foot down. 

 

“No, Arthur, you are not driving home. I’m calling waterfalls on this. I can’t be worrying about you driving in this weather all upset. I can’t..., just Waterfalls” 

 

Arthur was silent and then agreed, though he made Merlin promise not to drink any more – even it was green. Merlin promised – easy to make since he had already switched to water . 

“But did you get the badge?” Merlin asked and was rewarded by hearing Arthur give a low chuckle. They were okay. 

 

When Merlin finally ended the call he looked up to find Uther leaning against the doorway and staring at him. 

 

“You really do love him” Uther said, almost in wonder. “Why?” 

 

Merlin could give a range of answers but what he said was “Because he’s a noble fool” And then he added, “Didn’t you love Arthur’s mum, your wife?” Arthur never spoke about his mother and Merlin only knew that she had died when he was a baby. He knew he was taking shameless advantage to satisfy his curiosity but it bothered him a lot less than it should have. Green probably eased his conscience. 

 

Uther sat down again. This time he did not reach for a drink. Merlin wondered if he had gone too far but Uther started to speak.  
“Grace? She was beautiful and cold and engaged to a Lord when I met her. She had the confidence that comes with knowing your family has been important for centuries and I wanted her. I seduced her with coffee and intelligence and ...” he sighed. “She wouldn’t have stayed. We married because of Arthur. ‘No bastards in our family’ I was told, but given the one who told me is a right bastard, well...” 

 

“Arthur’s uncle” Merlin interjected. 

 

“You’ve met him then?” Uther broke out of his memories and looked up, then he began again “She oozed confidence. When she entered a room, everybody looked” 

“Arthur does that” Merlin interrupted again. Uther ignored him, lost in alcohol fuelled memories. 

 

“She wanted to go to a party and I was working. She went alone. She crashed on the way back. They didn’t take an alcohol level but I sure she was... She was always careless.” He drew a deep breath “She had a habit of taking off an ear ring when she was on the phone. Used to drive me mad. Afterwards, I found one... funny, I kept that....” He looked at Merlin “Her family cut ties. I had to stay at home with a toddler for eighteen months until I sold one of my patents and could a afford a crèche so I could work properly. Only invention of mine that I don’t own” 

 

Merlin was silent. He couldn’t imagine Uther Pendragon, with his fine suits and scathing tongue, managing a toddler, let alone Arthur. But it made him think more of the man. Uther was still staring at the fireplace as if the flames contained some meaning. 

 

“I’m dying” he said.  
Merlin was caught off guard. What was the correct thing to say to that? ‘I know’ seemed cold ‘I’m sorry’ so clichéd. He said nothing. 

“I don’t want to” Uther added, as if the silence had not been there. 

 

“Good” said Merlin without real thought. 

 

Uther looked at him as if he had moved crazy to a whole new level. Merlin hurried to explain. 

 

“I mean, I worked on the ambulances and I met loads of people who wanted to die, whose lives were so miserable they wanted out. So it’s good that your life is good so you want to stay – I mean it sucks that... but it’s good ...” he trailed off to find Uther still looking at him. 

 

“You are very odd” Uther said after an uncomfortable silence. 

“It has been said” Merlin agreed. 

Uther looked at his glass. “I am very drunk” he added. 

 

“Me too I think” Merlin said. 

Silence fell.  
It grew, filling the room, the only sound the rain beating on the window and the fire crackling in the fireplace. 

Uther cleared his throat. “Tell me about the ambulances” he said commandingly, pronouncing the word ‘Ambulances’ like a foreign word whose meaning you were unsure off but which you suspect was not good. 

 

Merlin decided anything was better than the silence so he told about his former job and then what he did now – even his demotion. Uther was interested in that and asked questions. Merlin huffed a little at that. He would be he thought. 

 

Finally Merlin stopped talking. This time the silence was less obvious. 

 

Uther broke it again. “You’re not stupid” he said. “I suppose I knew that, Arthur never could stand stupidity though some of his friends came remarkably close. But you, you’re smart, clever even, in a narrow way” 

 

Merlin thought Uther had the most amazing talent of making a compliment feel like an insult. 

 

Uther went on, talking to himself now. “Why couldn’t you be a girl? A girl like you would be good for him, why couldn’t you be a girl?” 

 

Merlin did not answer. There was no answer. 

The silence filled the room again. The fire sank down into the grate. Uther fell asleep on the couch. Merlin stared at the embers until they faded to black. 

 

The next morning Uther left with no ceremony and little breakfast and by 10 am Merlin was sitting at his kitchen table with a headache and a strange feeling that the whole visit had been a dream. 

 

And then he remembered that they had not agreed anything about Martin, who now had even more of a grudge against the Pendragons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got away from me - like Uther it stayed for longer than I thought


	25. A view from the basket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it seems that I have dropped off the face of the earth - or at least off that part that posts. It feels that way - but I have been writing and I have the next part of the story drafted. 
> 
> Unfortunately I did not write in chapters, just in events so when I started to chop it in logical places it is not even. Thus, after disappearing for six I produce a really short chapter. I am sorry. 
> 
> On the plus side I should be able to post every few days - barring unforeseen circumstances.

Grumbles lay on his couch, paws stretched out, eyes half shut. He loved his couch. He was aware that the humans did not consider it his but as far as he was concerned possession was based, well on possession, and he made sure to possess the couch when he was in the sitting room. 

The thing was, this couch allowed him to stretch almost full length while still keeping an eye on His Human. And it was soft. Grumbles had not always had soft in his life and he knew how to appreciate it. 

Right now Grumbles was watching His Human while sleeping. It was a dog thing and Grumbles was an expert. He liked keeping at least one eye on His Human when he could, especially since His Human wasn’t always around to be kept an eye on. 

It wasn’t that Grumbles didn’t like the other humans. The Female Human gave the Best belly rubs and knew exactly how to scritch That Spot behind his ear and the little Human never objected to playing – even when all the other Humans had given up. But nice though they were, none of them gave him the Safewarmhome feeling he got when His Human was near. 

 

And now His Human was sad. Grumbles knew sad. Sad was Coldhungrylostlonely and Grumbles had felt sad many times before His Human had appeared and Grumbles did not like that His Human should feel sad now, while Grumbles was there. His Human was sitting on the human couch, but he was not staring at the flickering wall or at pieces of paper. He was just sitting, staring at nothing. Grumbles did not like it. Humans were so hard to understand. They didn’t talk properly. When they were sad they didn’t flatten their ears or whine or tuck their tails in. They didn’t even have tails! How could they talk at all without a tail? When his human was happy, Grumbles had learned, he made a barking noise and Grumbles was learning the meaning of lots of other sounds but it would be so much easier to understand if he had a tail. 

Grumbles could see His Human was sad and Grumbles didn’t know why. There were many things that made Grumbles sad. Being alone was one – but His Human always told him he would be back by giving Grumbles something that smelt of Him. Water made Grumbles sad and frightened.  
Water made him remember Fearpaniccoldwetscrabblingpawshardtobreathe. Whenever he felt wet he felt all of those but when His Human’s Human gave him the strange coat that felt funny he found out that the water could not get him and for the first time since he was a puppy he felt safe when wet. 

Grumbles wanted to give His Human a funny coat to make him feel safe. With a huff Grumbles rose from his couch. He generally did not like his front paws lower than his back paws so manoeuvring off was an exercise in backward motion that usually made His Human make Happy sounds, but today His Human did not notice. Grumbles re-located his paws and went over to His Human, pushing his head under His Human’s hand for a pat. This usually resulted in wonderful head rubs, with the occasional gentle ear pull, but instead His Human simply allowed his hand to rest on Grumbles’ head. 

 

Grumbles whined, low in his throat. This was Not Right. Grumbles was not given to lap sitting as a general rule, having rather too much in the way of legs to fit comfortably, but he decided that a more definite approach was needed. With care he stepped onto the couch beside His Human and then slid over on to His lap, rolling over slightly to encourage chest rubs. 

At last His Human responded, bowing his head to touch Grumbles’. Grumbles could feel wet on His cheeks and tasted salt. Grumbles liked salt but this tasted of Lossalonesad. He whined again and tried to lick the bad salt away as curled his whole long form on to His Human’s lap. His Human wrapped his arms around Grumbles and Grumbles could feel more bitter wet salt sink into his fur. 

 

Outside, Grumbles heard a familiar sound of the kitchen door opening. He knew the sound well; it was His Human’s Human coming home. Grumbles liked His Human’s Human very much. He was good for cuddles and petting and very good at giving food. He wasn’t His Human but Grumbles did feel safe with him. And His Human seemed to feel Safewarmhome when he was with His Human’s Human so Grumbles liked that. Grumbles favourite time was in the evenings when the fire was lighting and His Human and His Human’s Human snuggled on their couch and Grumbles lay on his couch and made sure that all was well. 

 

His Human’s Human called down the hall “Arthur” he called. Grumbles knew the word. It was what other humans called His Human. His Human’s Human sounded Scaredlost and Grumbles felt a sudden fear. Why were the humans Not Happy? 

His Human’s Human came in and immediately sat beside His Human and enveloped Him in a hug. The hug included Grumbles and he grumbled a greeting. 

 

“Oh Arthur” His Human’s Human said as he hugged. “I heard it on the news as I came home. You should have called me” Grumbles did not know the words but the tone was full of Sad. 

“It shouldn’t matter” His Human said and Grumbles was surprised to hear anger in with the Sad. Was there something making His Human angry? Grumbles growled very softly. “It’s not as if it was unexpected – or even if we were close” Now His Human was simply Sad. 

 

“Oh Love” His Human’s Human said. Love was a sound His Human’s Human often used to call His Human. Grumbles liked it because when he said it he gave off feeling of Warmsafehappy and Grumbles could feel His Human liked it too. This time it did not seem to help. “Oh Love, He’s your Dad, and no matter what he loved you and you loved him. It matters” 

Suddenly His Human held Grumbles’ fur convulsively. “He didn’t love me” His Human said and Grumbles could hear bitterangrylonely in the sound. His Human’s Human sighed deeply – the way Grumbles did when no one wanted to play stand-and-watch-the –ball-roll and Grumbles sighed in sympathy. 

“He wasn’t good at saying it” His Human’s Human was saying “But he did show it” 

Grumbles’ Human turned slightly in the embrace, causing Grumbles to fall on to the cushions. “When?” His Human said and Grumbles knew that tone meant getoffthecouchnow. He jerked back but His Human pulled him back on to his lap. Grumbles relaxed. 

 

“He did” His Human’s Human said very softly. “At the Pendragon Enterprises reception, he hugged you in front of all the bigwigs. He shook my hand. In public. Arthur that was the nearest thing that man could do to say he loved you, short of setting up neon signs across the city” .

His Human was very still – not relaxed still but Ready for Action Still and Grumbles pricked up his ears to find the danger. “It was good for business” He said .

His Human’s Human sighed again and Grumbles put his muzzle between his paws. He didn’t understand the emotions that were swirling around him. “Being good for business doesn’t make it any less true” 

His Human started to leak SadSalt again and Grumbles lifted his head to give His Human a tiny lick. His Human didn’t like being licked but Grumbles needed to show him that Grumbles was there to share his Sad. His Human did not make a face and say NO so Grumbles decided that he had done A Good Thing. 

“Don’t you understand? That makes it worse” His Human said “If he loved me – then – All the time we didn’t have – It makes it worse” 

 

“Yeah” said His Human’s Human. “But I think... everyone who loves deserves to be grieved for. So we can be sad and that’s okay. Please – don’t be brave Arthur today. Be my Arthur and grieve. I’m here. I’ll hold you” 

 

More SadSalt leaked from His Human and He began to make hiccupping sounds. Grumbles whined and licked at his face and His Human’s Human held him close and they stayed together for sometime. 

 

Later His Human’s Human made food and fed His Human the way he gave Grumbles treats and later still, when Grumbles was settled in his bed by the kitchen stove, he could hear them talking in low tones upstairs. The sound soothed him. The house still felt like loss but the Alone feeling was gone and all the Humans felt safe. 

Grumbles lay with his head on his paws and thought about the feeling. He remembered the word that matched it. It was Love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many apologies for not responding to comments yet - I will get to it and I do appreciate very much all those who take the time to share their thoughts.


	26. To be remembered

Sq ch 26  
The funeral of Uther Pendragon was private, held in the village church of the country estate. Private meant family only but Arthur was surprised to find how large his family was. The Balinsons came from Belfast and Elena and Calum turned up (having cleared it with Merlin). Merlin had to explain to Arthur that in Ireland funerals were not private and attendance, if you had any sort of relationship with anyone associated with the deceased was practically mandatory. On the day Arthur was glad that some of the people there were there for him because the rest of the church was filled with Pendragon Enterprises senior executives in sober suits and no empathy. 

Also there was Catherine Pendragon as chief mourner. 

 

Catherine Pendragon had made a point of arranging to meet Arthur in private before the Grand Reception some months before. She had said that “It would be Sooo embarrassing if we had to be introduced by someone else” 

 

Arthur found her to be blunt and businesslike and despite his initial reluctance he liked her. She did not claim to love his father saying that they shared a mutual love of Pendragon Enterprises and that worked well for them. At the Reception, which marked the official handover of power from his father to Catherine, she was an efficient hostess, giving Arthur and Merlin more than just polite attention. Arthur appreciated her efforts and gave her credit for his father’s welcome. When the embossed invitation had arrived Arthur had deliberated over whether or not to attend the reception. Merlin persuaded him. 

“He’s asking you for something, Arthur. That’s an even bigger step than giving you something. He wants you to be there. That’s a big step” 

“It’s just another formal occasion” Arthur groused. 

“Well, then , we’ll go and be formal” was Merlin’s reply. 

Arthur had relented – mainly because there was a ‘We’ – the invitation was for both of them, with Merlin’s name beside his own. It was a concession his father would not have made before and Arthur was prepared to make his own concession in return. 

 

Now, when the formalities were more sombre, Arthur was glad he had attended his father’s last Hurrah. It highlighted the contrast but somehow made it bearable. 

 

After the funeral Catherine insisted that Arthur and Merlin stay for a day or two at the estate. On the first evening she and Arthur got into a deep discussion about state involvement in the technology sector and Merlin went for a walk down to the village. It was tiny, making Abbotsmead look like a metropolis. Outside the local pub (suitably called The Duck and Dragon) Merlin met Alfred who called to him and invited him in. 

 

The inside was dark but cosy and Merlin was greeted with polite nods from the patrons. Having been persuaded to have cider (‘Tis only apples ahter all’) Merlin sat amongst them and was carefully pumped for information by the locals. 

 

“Do ee know what becomes of Big House” one man said, getting to the point “Tis a shame it laying there empty most of the year” 

 

Merlin had to admit he had no idea but asked what they wanted, listening with interest as they expounded on possibilities ranging from a hotel to an adventure centre. It noted that though the locals were not hostile to Uther’s memory, they had little affection for him. Very few had seen much of him in the last few years and his habit of hiring caterers when he was there did not endear him to the locals. They did have memories of Arthur as a child and when the conversation turned to him Merlin was regaled with stories of Arthur’s winter adventures. Merlin was well aware that the locals were friendly because Alfred accepted him but he was grateful. 

 

And it gave him blackmail material to use on Arthur the next time he left his wet towel on the bedroom chair. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

It was nearly a month later when Merlin found himself standing in a much grander building, watching Arthur, sombre in a black suit and tie, greeting the attendees at Uther Pendragon’s memorial service. As Pendragon Enterprises was one of the most profitable companies to have been started in Britain, the death of its founder meant that many important people wanted to be seen to attend. Arthur stood beside Catherine Pendragon and shook the hands of Industry Kingpins and politicians alike. Merlin wondered what the Prime Minister thought as he approached but Arthur showed no particular deference. Merlin knew that relations were strained between the two men and he knew there were things Arthur was not sharing with him but he did not push. He had been a little surprised that Arthur wanted to play such a prominent part in the Memorial service, but Arthur was very blunt. 

 

“I want to be in the media eye this time” he said “I intend to make cynical use of my father’s name to promote my own career. I think he would be proud” 

 

Merlin wasn’t sure about that but seeing Arthur in full politician mode was like looking at a world class performance. Arthur was serious, as befitted the event but he greeted everyone by name (Catherine had supplied him with photographs of the Industry attendees, complete with briefing notes,) and accepted the trite expressions of condolence with great sincerity. With the politicians Merlin could see subtle gradations of warmth, from friendly to Arctic. The Prime Minister definitely got Arctic – but from the point of view of the camera Arthur looked by far the more impressive. 

 

Merlin stayed in the background for most of the service. He had chosen to do so and Arthur gave him that choice. 

 

“You’ve been my rock” Arthur had said, “But this won’t be about me or my father. It is about being seen with the right people.” 

 

“And I don’t like being seen” Merlin commented. 

 

Arthur nodded. “I know that. I will be hogging the cameras as much as I can. You don’t need to stand beside me” 

 

Merlin felt a little guilty about his decision but watching Arthur in action he felt relieved. This was not his world but Arthur thrived among the powerful, it was his place. Merlin did wonder about Arthur’s plan to keep a low profile while building support quietly. This was not a low profile. He realised that would have to start pushing to find out what Arthur was up to. 

 

He was thinking this when a voice at his shoulder interrupted him. 

“Are you one of the Research chappies the media is so fond of?” The voice was upper class English and when Merlin turned slightly he thought he recognised the man from political programmes on TV. This event had made him realise that he really did not pay enough attention to who’s who in Arthur’s world. 

 

Merlin shook his head in answer to the question. “I’m...” he hesitated for a moment before saying “I’m with Arthur” 

 

“With?” the man looked puzzled for a moment and then understanding dawned “Oh! You’re... With ... Pendragon.” 

 

Merlin didn’t like the tone in his voice but there was no polite way to leave. 

 

“You’re like that chap that follows Elton John around. Wossisname... I’m sure you’ve met him” 

 

“No actually” Merlin said shortly. It didn’t put off the speaker. 

 

“I thought all you chaps knew each other – sort of secret code sortofthing” Merlin resisted the need to punch something and instead gazed away in the hope of looking aloof. It never worked. Elena said his aloof look just made people want to talk more. His unwanted companion gestured towards Arthur, currently shaking hands with the ambassador of a small but important country. “Word to the wise” he said. “The PM’s not happy with Pendragon courting the press – I mean look at this lot. He just using the name” 

“It’s his name, he’s entitled to use it” Merlin said, allowing a little anger to bleed into his tone. The man gave him a direct look and Merlin could see his casual phrasing concealed a sharp focus with no benign intent. 

 

“Just so” he said mildly. “But the PM is not amused. Drop a hint, there’s a good fellow – you wouldn’t want to drop down another pay grade, now would you” He gave a sharp nod and walked away, leaving Merlin seething – and sure that the conversation had not been accidental. 

 

“You look like you want to kill someone” Merlin swirled around, respectable convention be dammed but before he could snap he recognised Catherine Pendragon. Merlin wasn’t sure what to make of her. She and Arthur got on very well after her initial visit and she had made a point of planning this memorial with Arthur’s help. Nevertheless Merlin could not warm to her; she was too driven, too focused on the job to really notice people. In many ways she reminded him of what he had seen of Uther and when he was feeling positive he wondered if that was what Arthur saw in her. When he was feeling stressed he wondered if Arthur saw himself in her. 

 

He gave up on diplomacy and answered Catherine’s implied question “Killing is a bit strong. I wouldn’t mind maybe punching one or two though” he said. 

 

Catherine gave a professional smile. “I’m sure you do – but not here. This is where the movers and shakers meet the builders and doers. All must appear calm” 

 

Merlin noted that she did not mention anything about respect for Uther Pendragon – but then he thought that Uther would probably approve of his formal memorial being used to promote business. It was an efficient use of time. Somehow the thought made him sad. He thought of their drunken conversation and felt that there was more to Uther than this hollow memorial. 

Having already done with diplomacy, he said so. Catherine Pengragon looked slightly startled and Merlin felt a moment of achievement that he had ruffled her calm exterior. 

 

“Did you know him that well?” she asked. Merlin shook his head. 

 

“Only a little” he said “But enough to know he was a person and a person deserves more than this” he waved an expressive hand over the polite crowd. 

 

Catherine looked uncertain. “How would you remember him then?” she asked “A grand statue?” 

 

Merlin huffed in annoyance at her deliberate attempt to diminish his opinion. “I’ll tell you I’d do” he snapped back. “Where we live – Arthur and me, where Arthur’s dad came from, there’s loads of businesses in trouble because of the floods. They’ve been forgotten because the News has moved on but they are still struggling to rebuild. You could help them. And do you know how hard it is for a single parent to afford child care? You could do something about that too” He paused, thinking that Uther had never even tried to do any of those things in his life so maybe he was going too far but dismissed the thought. Who knew what Uther would have done in the time he didn’t have? After all he had shaken Merlin’s hand – that meant he was open to change. 

 

A touch to his hand broke him out of his thought. 

 

“I think the CEO is required over there” Arthur said to Catherine, gesturing at a huddle of politicians in the corner. Catherine nodded and moved off, turning back for a moment to speak to Merlin. 

 

“I’ll consider what you have said” she said. 

Arthur kept his hand in Merlin’s. “Did you need rescuing” he asked. 

“Not from her” Merlin smiled. “but some of your fellow MPs need a lesson in manners” He knew he would have a long talk with Arthur about what his unwelcome conversationalist had said about his job. And this time he would not give Arthur space to evade. But that was later. Now he leaned back slightly, to feel Arthur’s body behind him. “When can we go?” he asked softly. 

“Soon” said Arthur. 

Merlin was reassured. His Arthur would always return to him. 

 

###

Arthur stood with the sealed envelope in his hand. He didn’t want to read it. But Merlin, sitting very still at the other side of his desk, had been adamant that Arthur should give him a few minutes. . 

“Whatever he had to say, he wanted you to read it” Merlin had said “Give him that much” 

Arthur crumpled the envelope in his hand “I don’t owe him anything” he said. 

Merlin gave him a look .

“He gave me money, Merlin because he had it. It would have been more trouble not to give it. I was an interruption and then an embarrassment. Why should I care what he says in this?” 

Merlin looked at him gravely. “I know he wasn’t the best dad” Arthur snorted but Merlin ignored him “He did give you eighteen months when your mum died.” 

Arthur stared at the letter in his hand. “He had to do that” he said with some bitterness. 

Merlin shrugged. “And he did it. He put you first – maybe for the only time - but it’s worth a letter” he got up and wrapped his arms around Arthur’s waist. “If it’s horrible we can have a ritual burning and look at sad Doctor Who episodes so we can cry at something else” 

Arthur glared at him but opened the letter. 

 

‘Arthur’ It began – no formalities 

‘ I do not apologise for what I said to you. I disapprove fully with your choices and your lifestyle and nothing will change that’ 

Arthur put the letter down “I don’t want to read more” he said “I refuse to be abused beyond the grave” 

Merlin picked up the letter and read on.

‘At least nothing in the time I have left. Having a time limit tends to focus the mind and whether or not I approve of you seems less important now. 

I realise I do not know you – I have not known you for some time. You grew up without me and that was my choice. I used my time to build Pendragon Enterprises and I do not regret it. 

A reporter called PE my brainchild – a trite phrase but one I enjoyed. PE is the child of my brain – I conceived it, built it, made it work. I am proud of what I made. 

But now, as I face my end I realise that I have another child. 

I could not have built PE and given you time but now I wish I had more time to find out more about you. I think you would be worth knowing. 

I have never seen the point of love, but if I did feel the emotion for any human being it was you.’

 

He had signed it with his full name. 

 

Arthur stood still in Merlin’s arms for a moment, then shook convulsively. 

“I’m done with him!” he sobbed “I am so done with him!” 

 

Merlin held him while he cried, soothing as he did so. Grumbles, who had been asleep in his dog bed, rose up and wound himself around Arthur’s legs, causing them both to stumble. 

 

When they untangled themselves and sat down, Arthur was calmer. Grumbles, with a few careful glances resumed his position in the dog bed. Grumbles now had dog beds in every room ever since Arthur had discovered a pet shop near his London flat. On every return he presented Grumbles with something new, though when he brought a dog bed for the bathroom Merlin cried enough. After that there were toys – masses of them and when Merlin tried to gently hint that maybe he had enough, Arthur pointed out that Grumbles always looked so delighted to get them he couldn’t stop. Merlin hadn’t the heart to say that Grumbles’ delight was in seeing Arthur not in the gifts. Arthur had too few happy balloons for Merlin to burst them. 

 

Right now he wished he could find another happy thought but he knew there was more to face. The letter had come in a folder of official papers and Merlin knew they would have to be read. As Arthur dozed on his shoulder he carefully edged one paper over so that he could read it. 

 

It was Uther’s will – written in legalese. Merlin knew that Arthur expected to be cut out of the will and certainly the beginning – dealing with his business seemed to show that. Most of it was left to Catherine with some individual bequests to people whose names Merlin did not recognise. 

The surprise came later. Uther had left the Chelsea house to Arthur. There was no personal additions to explain why, in the way Wills in books and TV always have and Merlin was puzzled. He decided wanted to believe that Uther wanted Arthur to have his home and continued to read.

 

The next paragraph cased him to exclaim out loud, waking both Arthur and Grumbles. They both looked at him. 

 

“Your father left the country house to me!” Merlin blurted out. Arthur said nothing and Merlin hastened to tell him about the Chelsea house. 

 

Arthur stayed silent and Merlin babbled. “I don’t know why he would do that – it doesn’t say – but I mean - I know you love the country house – it was your real home...” he stopped because Arthur was laughing – a full, head back, full throttle Arthur laugh that Merlin had not heard for far too long. 

 

Merlin sat back, puzzled. Arthur gasped words into his laughter. “That bastard! That sneaky conniving wonderful bastard!” he said and Merlin was even more puzzled. When Arthur was capable of speech he said “Don’t you see? It’s his way of telling me to stay with you – give you the house I grew up in – it’s his blessing” 

Merlin was not convinced. It seemed like far too much psychology for a man who did not believe in love. But, it made Arthur happy and that was enough. Merlin pressed a kiss to Arthur’s forehead and settled closer to him. 

 

#

Later that night, as they lay in bed, twined around each other, they spoke more on the topic. 

“I think I’ll sell the Chelsea house” Arthur said “Unless you want it?” 

Merlin was surprised “Don’t you want it – it’s a good house in a good neighbourhood – and it’s your home” 

Arthur took a long breath and tightened his hold on Merlin. “I’m not the person I was when I lived in that house and I don’t want to be. There are too many associations. We can sell it and buy something that suits us both” 

Merlin shook his head, which was difficult as his head was currently tucked under Arthur’s chin. “Nah, something that suits you. You’re the one with the London job. You need to have a place you can network in” Arthur didn’t respond and Merlin let it go. He hesitated for a moment then added “When do you want to move to the country” 

 

Arthur didn’t answer for a few seconds. “It will add an hour to your commute” he said cautiously. 

 

“Uh Huh” Merlin said non committedly “And for you driving up from London” 

 

Arthur agreed. “Grumbles would have plenty of room to run” he added. 

“But Marlene couldn’t get there” Merlin said 

Arthur was silent. Merlin nudged him – a difficult manoeuvre given their position. He was quite proud of his achievement. 

“You don’t want to go, do you?” Merlin said. 

 

Arthur gave another deep sigh. “I love this house” he said “I love that the fifth step on the stairs creaks no matter what you do and that the cellar door won’t open unless you hit it six inches above the lock and that there is silly graffiti on the garden wall. I love it all” 

 

Merlin gave his own sigh. He felt he was entitled to at least one sigh having had gales blown over his head during this conversation. Then he assimilated the last part of Arthur’s speech. 

“You saw the graffiti in the garden?” he squeaked. It was a squeak. He was too tired to care. 

“Merlin loves Arthur? It’s juvenile and hardly original” Arthur said pompously. 

“It was original to me” Merlin muttered – “And I wouldn’t like any variations on it” he added. “If you love it, does that make you juvenile too?” He could feel Arthur smiling and added “I wanted to make sure that everyone who lives here in the future knows ... well. Knows” 

 

Arthur tightened his hold around Merlin and Merlin could feel a kiss pressed to the top of his head. He felt slightly irritated that his hair should get the benefit of the kiss and not his mouth when an idea struck him. He twisted round in Arthur’s arms. “What will we do with the other house?” 

 

Arthur sighed “What do you want to do?” 

 

“Something that makes it give back to the people” Merlin remembered his chat in the pub. “It’s closed up too much. Maybe a hotel – or a guest house – it could get local produce – be useful” 

 

Merlin could feel Arthur thinking through his skin. “Do you want to run a hotel?” Arthur asked. 

 

“I wouldn’t have a clue” Merlin said honestly “But somebody could – there will be somebody. Maybe hire it? Or something. It has to give back to the neighbourhood” 

 

Arthur was thinking again. 

 

“I added to the graffiti” he said, derailing Merlin’s train of thought, leaving crashed thought carriages all over his mindscape. 

 

“Um” Was all Merlin could say. 

 

“Because I do too. Love you that is, not me” 

 

“I know” Merlin said 

 

“And I wanted it to be obvious so that people could see it” 

 

Merlin chuckled into Arthur’s chest hair. “If they happen to explore the bottom of the garden behind the compost heap”

 

“That’s where you wrote it”!” Arthur said with mock indignation

 

“I’m a private person. Even when I’m in public I like to be private” Merlin replied lightly. 

 

Arthur kissed him deeply on the shoulder “I know” he said. “I know you hide your heart from everyone else and I love that you don’t hide from me” 

 

“I can’t” Merlin replied tartly, “You even looked behind the compost heap” 

 

“I’m impressed you have a compost heap” Arthur retorted

Merlin laughed “I’m impressed you know what a compost heap is. Mr Chelsea” 

“I don’t” Arthur said with some pride “There’s a sign saying ‘Compost heap’” 

Merlin giggled and in a moment Arthur joined him. In a softer tone Arthur added, “We have made a good home here, haven’t we Merlin?” Merlin gave a happy grunt that meant yes but Arthur felt a sudden fear . “Love me” he said with some desperation. “I don’t think I could... there is so much to face... I couldn’t if you didn’t love me” 

 

Merlin jutted his head up to see Arthur’s face. “I love you” he said seriously “There is no When, no Where, no Universe that I don’t love you. It is a fixed point,” he smiled suddenly “And it is immortalised at the back of the compost heap. I will never Not love you. Though, Arthur, y’have to stop leaving that towel over there – I swear...” Before he finished he was gasping with laughter. “No!” he said between bouts, “You did not just tickle me. You know you will lose!” 

 

Shouts of laughter came from both – turning quickly into shouts of another sort as loving laughter became love. 

 

#

Downstairs, in his large dog basket decorated with paw prints, Grumbles turned around and tucked his tail in. Humans are hard to understand, he thought, but Grumbles was satisfied that His Humans were starting to learn to talk properly, even without tails. He sighed contentedly and slowly drifted into sleep.


	27. Legacy

Arthur was very surprised when Catherine Pendragon informed him that Pendragon Enterprises would be setting up local support for small businesses hurt by the flood as a memorial to his father. 

 

Arthur did not understand this and said so. “My father never showed any interest in helping other businesses when he was alive” he said to Catherine, “He wouldn’t help his competition. So why do this now?” 

 

“I think you didn’t know your father very well if you think that” Catherine said, slightly amused. “Uther was a complex man” 

 

“If this is your way of gaining redemption for him” Arthur drawled “You’d probably do better with a kiddies charity. Much more media friendly” 

 

The amusement left Catherine’s face “Uther does not need redemption.” she snapped “You may have had your issues with him but I thought him the best man I’ve known. This project will help people like him, people willing to build a business from the roots up – and if you want a business motive – all those businesses that survive will need equipment – they will employ people who need thing. We are not helping competitors we are creating customers” 

 

Arthur was not convinced. He could not recall his father ever doing anything for anyone that did not ultimately benefit himself and despite Catherine’s ‘creating customers’ he could not see this as anything other than a scheme to ride the wave of sympathetic publicity engendered by his father’s death. The moralist in him was vaguely disgusted but the realist rather admired the actions. 

 

Merlin was much less judgemental. “Stop carping on about it” he said to Arthur in private. “There are a whole load of people getting help they weren’t going to get. That is good, isn’t it?” 

 

Arthur noticed Merlin was slightly pink around the ears as he spoke and he would have questioned him further had not Grumbles run up to them and deposited a small, very dead fish at their feet. 

Arthur looked at the fish, the words What? Why? and How? failing to come out his mouth. He raised his eyes to Merlin who shrugged. 

“I thought it was only cats who did that” Merlin said.

 

Arthur closed his mouth and Grumbles nudged the fish towards his shoe with his nose. Arthur looked at Merlin again. 

“I dunno” Merlin shrugged again. “You have no idea the things he finds in this garden. He once brought me a World war two helmet complete with bullet hole” Arthur had wondered where that had come from but he still looked pointedly at the fish. 

“There’s a stream. Maybe he learned to fish” Merlin said reasonably. “But right now he wants you to say thank you” Grumbles did indeed look as if he expected thanks. Arthur took a piece of newspaper and picked up the rather smelly fish. He wondered what to do with it. It seemed ungrateful to bin it but Merlin found a solution, picking up a spade. 

 

“Grum buries his treasures” Merlin said “He’ll understand” Arthur wasn’t at all sure about that – especially as Grumbles watched them very carefully as they dug. 

 

A few days later he was lunching with Clarissa in an eatery in the County town (“It’s important to be seen supporting local business – and they do the most divine carrot cake”) when his coffee was interrupted by a finger poking in his back. 

 

“Pendragon?” the owner of the finger said. Arthur nodded without speaking, afraid that an explosion of carrot cake crumbs would be unparliamentary. 

“I didn’t vote for you” the man continued. Arthur had faced this before. He had experimented with many replies including “Really?” “Okay” “You didn’t have to” “It’s a free country” before setting on “How can I help you?” as being the one least like to be answered with expletives. (Or at least fewer expletives – though the remaining ones could be choice)/

 

“How can I help you?” Arthur said without any irony in his tone. He could feel Clarissa’s approval. 

 

“Already have” the man said. “Lodged the cheque on Monday – all done through” 

 

Arthur raised an eyebrow – deliberately giving the look Merlin called ‘Curious Patrician’. It worked. The man responded to the unasked question. 

“You are Pendragon, yeah? Cheque said Pendragon” 

Suddenly the penny dropped with a splash. “You mean Pendragon Enterprises” he said “The company. I’m afraid I don’t work for it” 

 

“Your name though” the man said, confused. Arthur sighed and wished that he had a less distinctive name. He had said as much to Merlin once, wondering aloud why he couldn’t have had a normal name not associated with a billion dollar company. Merlin had called him Arthur Apple for the rest of the day. Arthur was not amused. Now he just sighed as the man continued. 

“The missus says it’s all for publicity but I sez that dunt matter. That cheque cleared and I can restock my shop and nevermind the rotten insurance and I can tell my staff they still have jobs so, yeah,...”He stopped and looked embarrassed. “Anyway, thanks” he said, adding “But I probably still won’t vote for you” 

Arthur grinned. “Good” he said seeing a look of surprise flit over the man’s face. “I wouldn’t want a vote that could be bought” he continued. The man gave a sharp nod and walked away. 

Clarissa passed over a slice of carrot cake. “Well done” she said, “You’ve made a friend for life – William Maunder has a long memory. He lost his stock in the floods and because he had been flooded before he had no insurance. The Pendragon fund literally saved his business” 

“That wasn’t me” Arthur snapped, irritated. 

 

“Oh Sweetie” Clarissa began, stirring her speciality tea, “I never knew your father well but I do know fundraising and I know that Uther Pendragon was not a big giver. This was not his idea – and I doubt if their publicity people would be aware of local issues. ” She smiled at Arthur. “Even if you did not directly give him the cheque, it doesn’t matter. It’s not the thought, it’s the gift that counts” 

Arthur shook his head in frustration but Clarissa changed the subject. “It won’t help you with the bigger picture, though. Your face has been all over the media over the last few months. Your … rivals… won’t like it” 

“I know” Arthur said. 

“You know, Arthur, I didn’t think it before but, I think you could be happy being a working MP. You and Merlin have a good home here- it could be enough” 

 

Arthur said nothing. He disagreed.   
Of course the heightened awareness of the Pendragon name did not help Arthur with Fraser and Arthur grew accustomed to the snide comments hidden in briefings and reported by a gleeful press. He did not retaliate. Somehow he still hoped he could follow his original plan though he knew the possibility of that was fading with every mention in the newspapers. 

 

Arthur was in a low mood when he returned to Abbotsmead and his mood was not raised when he put his foot on something disturbingly soft and overwhelmingly smelly as he got out of his car. He looked down and saw the resurrected and alarmingly decomposing remains of Grumbles’ fish. He sighed and reflected that in this case neither the thought nor the gift counted. 

Grumbles had his nose pressed to the kitchen door when Arthur came up the path and looked as depressed as Arthur felt. 

“You’ve cost me a pair of shoes, dog” Arthur said as he entered. Grumbles gave a little whine and Arthur relented, rubbing behind the dog’s ear in both greeting and apology. Grumbles felt damp. 

Merlin bustled in, carrying a washing basket. 

“We had an incident” he said “resulting in unfortunately mutual baths” 

“I know” Arthur said “I stood in it” He looked ruefully at his loafers and sighed “And another pair bites the dust” 

Merlin looked at him aghast. “You can’t dump a pair of Italian hand made shoes because they smell!” 

Arthur raised an eyebrow in a deliberately supercilious move that always raised Merlin’s hackles “The point of being rich, Merlin, is that I can”. It worked. Merlin had his ‘you did not just say that expression’ 

Merlin glanced down at his torn jeans and comfortable but old sweatshirt. “With your high tastes I don’t know what you see in me” he said, only half in jest. 

Arthur decided not to push the mock fight any farther. He stepped in Merlin’s space and pulled his lover close, running a hand under the offending sweatshirt. 

“Oh, it’s definitely not your clothes” he said meaningfully. Merlin grinned at him. 

“Really? What then?” he murmured 

Arthur mind filled with all the reasons he loved this man, from that ready grin that was never malicious, to the bright eyes that always looked with kindness at others but made Arthur feel like a king; he thought of the strong neck, thrown back in passion, the long legs wrapped around him, the voice calling his name…

“You’ve got good hair” Arthur said. Merlin guffawed and claimed Arthur’s lips for a kiss.

“I was involved in the incident too” Arthur murmured. “Do I get a bath?” 

“You I don’t mind bathing” Merlin said archly “Just promise not to bite” 

“I can’t promise that” Arthur said darkly and Merlin drew a sharp breath. 

“Okay” he squeaked “Bath now” . Taking Arthur’s hand Merlin half led, half dragged Arthur out of the room. 

 

Grumbles looked around the empty kitchen and sighed. He sniffed at Arthur’s discarded shoe but rejected it. In his basket he pondered on why his fish wasn’t so much fun the second time and why humans had such an obsession with water. He chewed on a snack left in his bowl. He knew from experience it would be some time before the humans came back to have dinner so a nap was called for. He turned around three times and settled down. 

 

#

They took a break in Dublin to celebrate Elena’s birthday. She refused to say what age she was (though everyone knew) and said she was not waiting for anyone to organise a party for her. “Do It Yourself” she declared was her new motto and so everyone descended on Dublin. 

 

The party turned out to be more sedate than Arthur and Merlin were led to believe – much to their relief. Merlin was able to avoid the temptation of anything green and Arthur stuck to water – he could not do anything about the press coverage his name received but he could make sure he did not give them ammunition. 

 

Elena slid into the seat beside them as the evening wore on. She had not been so abstemious and she was flushed as she sat down. 

 

“I’m too old for this shit” she said “And I have the cards to prove it” 

 

Arthur pushed some water towards her but she recoiled. “I’ve been misbehaving all night, I’m not going to start being good now” She paused. “Did you see the love of my life leaving early?” 

 

Val had stayed only for the meal before excusing himself and leaving. 

 

“He had something important to do” Elena said sadly. “He always has something important to do” She looked at Arthur and Merlin. “I wish I was important” she said “You two, you’re important” she sniffed and Arthur could see an emotional scene coming. His instinct said run but his heart said this was Elena and he reached for her hand. If he then patted it awkwardly, only Merlin noticed. 

“When I see you guys” Elena said “When I see you, you have everything I want. I want the house, the whole.... I want all that...Val still thinks he some sort of Peter Pan with a badge.” She huffed “He lives with me – but most of his stuff’s still at his mam’s and ...” She sniffled again. Merlin passed her a handkerchief. “I’ve spent my whole life waiting for my life to begin... getting a trendy tiny flat until we would get a house, taking a job to fill in until the perfect job comes, waiting for Val to actually spend a whole week with me and here I am years later, still in the flat, still in the job, still waiting....” She was crying now and Arthur put his arm around her, while Merlin murmured soothing platitudes. There was nothing else to say. They had seen her growing frustration with her life. 

 

“See over there?” Elena said nodding towards one of her friends dancing wildly “That’s Jenny, she making the most of being out tonight cos she has a baby at home. So has Tina, “ pointing at another friend “and Livy. They spend their time bitching about childminders and crèches and sleepless nights and ... I want that. I want it and I can’t even get Val to keep his football kit in our flat.” She sighed deeply “I want to stop waiting and I want a child and I will have one, with or without Val” 

 

“Er,” Merlin said hesitatingly “You kinda need him” 

 

Elena looked at him coolly. “Not necessarily. Not nowadays” 

 

“What are you up to Elena” Arthur felt a prudish side he didn’t know he had suddenly appear. 

 

“Oh I’m not going to sleep around” Elena said brightly “There are catalogues, would you believe – catalogues of fathers! I can choose!” Arthur tried not to be shocked but knew he failed when Elena laughed and patted his face. “Oh sweetie, it’s not like I...” suddenly she stopped. “OHMYGOD!” she exclaimed “You two. You’re perfect, both of you, either of you... you’re both smart and gorgeous and perfect genetics and ...” Arthur could see the stunned look on Merlin’s face and was pretty sure he had the same expression. 

 

Just then Jenny (or was it Tina?) dragged Elena up with a cry “Come on birthday girl! This is your song!” 

 

Elena danced away, glancing back as she did so “Think about it” she called as she disappeared on to the dance floor. 

 

They thought about it. 

Dismissively. 

“She’s drunk” 

“Obviously” 

So it’s nonsense?” 

“Probably” 

Later, back at the hotel they thought more. 

“Elena can be remarkably aware when drunk” 

“No Arthur” 

“What I mean is...” 

“No Arthur” 

Later, when they reached home there was more thinking

“Do you think she’d really go to a catalogue?” 

“Not our business” 

“Of course it’s our business, it’s Elena!” 

“So you actually do want to sleep with her then?” 

 

“What? Merlin? What?” 

“Cos that’s what it would involve – you sleeping with her” 

Arthur stood still in the hallway of their house, Grumbles ecstatically chewing his loafers while he was wearing them “No, Merlin, that’s not... how could you think... and why me anyway” 

“Because you’re the one with choices” 

Arthur mentally said goodbye to his replacement shoes and stumbled over Grumbles to wrap Merlin in his arms “You’re my choice and always will be so shut up and stop doing your thing” 

 

Merlin didn’t answer because Arthur was kissing him and because he knew his esteem issues were a thing and he had to get over them. When he opened his eyes from the kiss he elbowed Arthur (gently). “He’s eating your shoe” he said. 

 

“This appears to be his thing” Arthur said. “I think I’m being punished. He doesn’t like being left behind” 

 

Later, after Grumbles had consigned the sad remains of an Italian loafer into his toy stash behind the table in the dining room and gone to his own bed Arthur and Merlin retired to think some more. 

 

“Dublin isn’t that far away – there are direct flights” 

“Indeed” 

“And Elena would want there to be contact” 

“I think so” 

 

Merlin moved even closer in the bed. “You know, I think I would feel a connection to your child – a family connection.” 

Arthur was surprised to find he felt the same. “Me too Yours” he said. 

“So will we say yes then?” 

“Uh Huh” 

They slept. 

 

Elena did not ring for a few days and life got back to normal. Arthur worked hard at his constituency work, getting frustrated at how little he could help and Merlin went back to his frustrating job watching others make mistakes. Grumbles refused to chew the other loafer, scorning it in favour of a torn and balding tennis ball. The pristine shoe glared reproachfully at Arthur from the wardrobe as Grumbles smugly turned its fellow to leather strings. 

 

Then Elena rang. She was euphoric as she told Arthur of how Val had listened to her and how they were going to make their whole relationship – and possible family – work. 

 

When he got off the phone, Arthur had to take a minute to re-establish himself.

 

It was a good thing, he decided. The media would have had a field day if they had gone through with it (and it would not have been possible to keep secret – such things always come out) and besides, whether genetically his or Merlin’s the child would have had the legacy of the Pendragon name tied around his neck like an albatross. (Arthur refused to think of the implication of thinking of the mythical child as ‘he’). As he tripped over the ex-shoe for the third time that day he reflected that he couldn’t even keep his dog from eating his shoes – what did he know about raising a child? 

 

He spent the rest of the day in his study, working through emails and letter, trying to find ways through the petty barriers Fraser’s associates put up for his constituents. It was frustrating work and by evening he was tired and cranky. When Merlin came in he was glad to leave the heap that never seemed to get any smaller. 

 

It didn’t take long for him to tell Merlin of Elena’s news. “You’ll be glad to know that we’re off the hook with Elena. She and Val are sorting things out” 

 

“Oh” said Merlin and sat down. “That’s ....” 

 

“She’s very happy” Arthur said “She practically purred down the phone. It was slightly disturbing” 

 

“Yes” Merlin said. 

“ So we don’t have to worry about any of the ... messy stuff” 

 

“No” said Merlin 

Arthur registered that Merlin was not taking this as he had expected him to. “You are glad about this, aren’t you?” he asked bluntly. 

“No” Merlin said. 

Arthur felt a spike of irritation. Merlin had been the one who had argued against Elena’s proposal. What gave him the right to be upset now? “It’s not as if you wanted it” Arthur snapped. 

 

“No” Merlin said “I’m going to check if Jack is finished with the new vegetable patch” He walked out to the garden. 

 

The irritation Arthur felt flared into anger. Why should Merlin grieve over something he never had and didn’t want? Arthur could not understand it. 

 

Then, with a crashing certainty as dramatic as the time Grumbles ran into the shed and brought down a whole shelf unit with an over enthusiastic leap, Arthur realised that it did not matter whether or not he understood why Merlin was upset. What mattered, what was important, was that the man he loved had hurried out alone looking as if he needed to cry. Merlin shouldn’t be alone. 

 

Within a moment Arthur raced out. Merlin was sitting on a makeshift seat under the apple trees. Arthur had made lots of little seats all around the garden to allow Merlin to rest his leg, knowing full well that Merlin would never allow formal garden seats – that would be an admission of weakness. 

 

Hesitatingly Arthur stood beside the seat. 

 

“I’m okay” Merlin said, though his eyes were red rimmed. 

 

Arthur was at a loss as to what to say so he let his brain off the hook and allowed his mouth free rein. “You’re not okay,” he said “And it’s okay to be not okay but I want to help you be okay, okay?” 

Merlin looked up, a faint smile ghosting on his lips. “You do know you’re crazy” he said. 

 

Arthur sat down heavily beside him “It has been said” he took Merlin’s hand in his. “Do you want to talk?” 

“Not really” Merlin sounded choked up and lay his head on Arthur’s shoulder “I don’t know what to say, I mean, I know you’re right and should be relieved but... I just...”he trailed off and Arthur plunged into the depths of his own emotions.

 

“Yeah, me too” He confessed and leaned closer. 

 

Grumbles, who had followed Arthur out looked at them with some chagrin. He had planned on a relaxing evening watching the humans throw a ball, resting in his bed as they ate, dozing on his couch as they watched the wall, before finally sleeping. Now it looked like he would be on Fighting- Sad duty this evening. He sighed and went over to the silent pair beneath the tree, pushing his head between them to demand a pat. It wasn’t so bad, he thought and his humans were important enough to be worth the effort. 

 

#

A few days later, Arthur talked over his feeling with Mrs. Balinson on Skype. He was not sure when their talks became an important part of his well being but he knew they were. 

Now he told her about the Elena incident. 

“Should we look into things,” he asked vaguely “Adoption, surrogacy?” 

“No” Mrs. Balinson said firmly and Arthur was surprised at her tone. Didn’t she want grandchildren? Did she think they were not suitable parents? Was there still some lingering prejudice that she did not know of? 

 

He made a virtually inarticulate response and Mrs. Balinson sighed. “Oh son,” she said and no matter how many times she said it, Arthur warmed to the name “This is not your idea – either of you. You two don’t have a child shaped hole in your lives. You had a pretty shiny bubble to think on and you are sad it’s gone but that’s all. If you really wanted a child you wouldn’t be asking me, you’d be telling me and moving heaven and earth to get it. That’s what a child deserves, son” 

 

Arthur said nothing and Mrs. Balinson stared directly at the camera. “Ach Arthur, that’s not all that’s bothering you at all, is it?” 

Arthur shrugged. Skype was useful that way – it allowed him to be inarticulate at times. 

 

“Oh son, by now you know my wee boy better than I do, and he knows you. You don’t need me to tell you how to talk to him. It’s knowing yourself you have the problem with. So tell me what has you so tensed up. No don’t hide, I can see your shoulders. ” 

 

Arthur had forgotten that Mrs. Balinson could read him nearly as well as Merlin. He fretted for another few seconds while Mrs. Balinson’s patient face watched him from a computer screen, then he blurted out “How do you want to be remembered” 

 

Mrs. Balinson’s look softened and she sighed. “Arthur, You above all people should know that having a child doesn’t guarantee how you’ll be remembered.” she said gently. 

Arthur let his shoulder talk for him again. How could he explain that his father had left a multibillion dollar corporation behind him while he, Arthur, looked like being a footnote in history, a minor MP who once had a scandal attached to his name? 

 

But he did not know how to say this to this woman, sitting patiently in her tidy sitting room, her greying hair pulled into a respectable bun and unbotoxed wrinkles well established around her eyes. History would not give her even a footnote despite how she gentled lives in work in the hospice. 

 

As though she read his mind, Mrs. Balinson interrupted his thoughts. “Hush” she said very softly, “history is like gossip, and gossip is never about what matters. When the people who love you respect what you do, you’re on the right path and no need to worry” 

 

Arthur gave a bitter huff, “The path I’m on leads exactly nowhere” he said bleakly. 

 

Mrs. Balinson reached out as if to touch him, then realising she could not, pulled her hand back. “Would Merlin approve of this path?” she asked. 

 

“I don’t know” Arthur said honestly. He was pretty sure Merlin would know that Arthur did not like the plan he was taking on and so would not like it in solidarity, but he was not sure how Merlin would see it objectively. 

 

“You find out” Mrs. Balinson said, “And if he respects you, then trust yourself. Leave history to the gossips, Arthur, you do what needs to be done.” Her astute expression made Arthur wonder at what she suspected and again she read his face. “I keep up with the news Arthur, I see what’s happening.” She looked around her room and Arthur remembered the comfort of that room during the dark days Merlin spent in hospital. “I’m not political” she said “But here in Northern Ireland being political meant something different to the rest of the world and not being political was political itself. It meant paying attention to what’s going on. Noticing details. I see things, Arthur, and I see you’ve got a wee war on your hands and I don’t know where you are going with it but I trust that both of you will do what’s right” 

 

Arthur wondered at her observation but was not convinced by her faith in him. It did not account for the way ‘the right thing’ could be a point of view.


	28. Just press refresh

Merlin was surprised at his reaction to the non event of Elena’s baby. He had never wanted a child, never really thought about it, but the act of thinking over Elena’s drunken suggestion had created new ideas for his imagination to run with. He began to imagine a child (sometimes a boy, sometimes a girl – his imagination was an equal opportunities creator), with Arthur’s fair hair and look of passionate bewilderment when the world hit him too hard. Merlin imagined seeing milestones; first day of school, last day of school, birthdays, Christmases. He imagined them both attending a graduation, easing the old wound caused by their non attendance at each other’s graduations. 

 

The image of the child gave him a tie with the future, something to look for over the shoulder of the present. Although the present was more happy than not, Merlin had a vague feeling that he was still waiting for real life to start – that everything up to now had been simply a practice. A child would be real. 

 

Except of course when it wasn’t. 

 

So he went back to his unsatisfying job and watched Arthur become more and more tense in his work and though they tried to ease each other’s dissatisfaction the end result was the same. 

 

And he allowed himself a little time to grieve for what might have been. 

 

It was not that he had much time for wallowing. They had their legacies to deal with. Arthur quickly put the Chelsea house on the market and it was just as quickly snapped up. Arthur took few things from the house. He didn’t need the memories they evoked. 

 

The manor was a different story. Arthur and Merlin spent a weekend there, going over Arthur’s favourite places and their associated stories. Merlin knew Arthur insisted he did not want to live in the house, but he could see that Arthur did not want to lose the connection. He spent sleepless nights trying to come up with a way to run it himself but his problem was solved when Catherine Pendragon asked to ‘borrow’ it. 

 

“We’ll pay rent, of course” she said , “But it’s important that it belongs to family” 

 

She planned to make it a corporate retreat for Pendragon Enterprises. “It will make us different from the other giants – we will have our meetings at the Family Estate” 

 

Merlin wasn’t sure. He had envisaged a cosy manor-hotel with a family feel. The difficulty with that was finding a family to run it. Merlin was not prepared for that responsibility and Catherine’s proposal took the burden of responsibility off his shoulders for a time. 

 

And so Merlin agreed and soon teams of Pendragon employees were given the opportunity to be wined and dined at a country manor house. Merlin did ask that Catherine use local labour where possible and his egalitarian instincts were eased, when, on a visit to Alfred he met a bunch of minor R&D boffins, dressed in jeans and teeshirts, wide-eyed at the quaintness of an authentic English country pub. The locals were equally wide-eyed and Merlin chuckled inwardly at the cultural exchange between farmers and nerds – both experts in their fields. Alfred noticed his look and raised a glass. 

 

“Make you laugh, dunt it” Alfred said taking a sip of his deliberately local cider “All of ‘em know nothing the others know but they’s still all the same” 

 

Merlin smiled. He was satisfied that his choice seemed to have local approval - He was happy that some good seemed to have come from it. 

 

It didn’t change his life though. 

 

It was an email that did that. 

 

Merlin didn’t often check his work mail now. Mostly it was just his updated work schedule. Being out of the decision making meant fewer emails in his in tray. He tried to see it as a positive but his avoidance of his email showed that he failed. 

 

So the email was a week old when he got to it. It looked innocuous, from the Environmental Agency. In his former position he had dealt with them before and he thought nothing of it when he clicked through. 

 

It was a job offer, couched in vague terms and asking Merlin to meet with them in London. He didn’t stop to think about it but sent off a reply immediately expressing interest. He then got up and walked with Grumbles to ease the nerves that were causing pterodactyls to do aerial spectaculars in his stomach. 

 

Much to his surprise (and a little dismay) there was a reply when he returned asking if he would be available to meet in London at a time convenient to him. Again he replied quickly, giving the next time he was due in London. He then had a large meal and tried to forget about it. 

 

He almost did forget it and had to remind himself that his next London stay was for more than seeing Arthur. Sometimes Merlin thought that their relationship was growing so well because they spent so much time apart. All the reunions added spice to life - and the absences meant that they did not have to put up with each other’s annoying habits all the time. (Merlin was sure he could never adjust to the perpetual towel on the chair and ‘Merlin, I swear, if you don’t stop tapping that table I will nail your fingers to it...’ would occur far more frequently if they didn’t have breaks). Knowing that there would be time when the annoyances would not be there made them much more bearable. 

 

He had told Arthur about the prospect of a change of job, not without a little pride. 

 

“I think I’m being head-hunted” He said 

 

“Literally or figuratively” Arthur replied. 

 

Merlin was about to answer when his brain did a sideways jump. “Wait – literally is a possibility?” 

 

“It’s a strange world” Arthur shrugged “You should see my post bag” 

Merlin saw more of Arthur’s post bag than he should as Arthur still did not trust anyone to do more than basic secretarial functions for him. When he got totally snowed under, Merlin did simple triage on the mail – and yes, there were some odd things sent to MPs. Now he would worry about the things he did not see. 

 

Arthur was happy for Merlin and encouraged him to make the most of the chance. He even persuaded a reluctant Merlin to get a new suit (though he could not persuade him to go bespoke – Merlin still considered that a step too far). Merlin was willing to compromise on the suit because he knew he was on thin ice clothes-wise. Arthur had made a habit of joking about Merlin’s lack of dress sense, until one evening, after a particularly frustrating day Merlin had barked “So you don’t think I’m a suitable spouse for and up and coming MP then?”. 

 

Arthur had gone quiet, muttered “That’s not what I meant” and something else Merlin could not hear and had stayed quiet for the rest of the evening. He had not joked about Merlin’s clothes again, though Merlin found himself trying to provoke a comment with baggy shorts and crazy tee-shirts. He figured a suit was worth seeing the gleam of interest in Arthur’s eyes. 

 

There was a gleam of proprietorial pride in Arthur’s eyes when Merlin set off. Merlin twitched as Arthur straightened his tie – sans Shrek unfortunately. “I don’t know who is interviewing who” Merlin complained “I mean, they suggested I should take a job with them but they didn’t say what. For all I know they might want someone to shovel coal” 

 

“I don’t think the Environmental Agency does that” Arthur said blandly. 

 

Merlin shrugged out of his grasp “They’ll probably make it up just for me” he muttered “My tie is fine, Arthur, leave it!” He slapped ineffectually at Arthur’s hands and Arthur stepped back, grinning. 

“Go find out about the coal shovelling” he said, laughing. 

#   
When Merlin returned he didn’t know whether he was exhilarated or terrified. 

“I think I accepted a job” he said as soon as he stepped into the dingy flat that was still their London home. 

 

“You think?” Arthur laughed. “Shouldn’t you know?” 

“Okay, well, I did accept a job – I’m just not sure what job it is” Merlin explained. Arthur raised a very expressive eyebrow. 

“Is that wise, Merlin?” he asked. 

 

“Probably not” Merlin responded as he shuck off his jacket and made a dive for that part of the couch not occupied by Arthur’s papers. “But I want to try unwise for a change. I need a change” 

Arthur sat beside him, pushing both papers and Merlin to make space. He looked a little uncomfortable and it wasn’t only the squashed space. 

“If you need it” Arthur began slowly “but...” 

Merlin smushed closer and snuggled under Arthur’s arm. “Just my job, Arthur” he said “Not my life. I’m not trading you in for anything” 

Arthur’s snuggles took on a defensive feel “Didn’t think that” he said as Merlin gave a contented chuckle “So about this job” 

 

“Well, I was right. They did make it up just for me” Merlin said and as Arthur laughed he went on. “They said that they had experts for everything but they didn’t have someone to tap into local knowledge. Someone for people like me to go to when they have an idea so that they don’t get fired.” 

“You didn’t get fired Merlin” 

“Felt like it” Merlin replied quietly. “But this job is a chance to start afresh.” 

 

Suddenly Arthur felt a spasm of fear. What if Fraser did it again, interfered again to thwart Merlin’s career? The Environment Agency was even more vulnerable to interference than local emergency services. He felt helpless. Whatever choices he made in the future, Merlin would always be in the firing line. 

Merlin picked up on his tension. 

“Do you think I shouldn’t take the job?” he asked with some uncertainty. Arthur didn’t know what to say. In his current position Merlin was safe – but not very happy. Would it be worse to be offered the new job and then lose it? Arthur knew what it felt like to have your dreams pulled away from you. Was Merlin safer not getting his dreams at all? 

 

Merlin nudged him, a sharp elbow in the ribs. “Oi! Stop thinking. I don’t know what you’re thinking but I know I don’t like it.” He nudged Arthur again, slightly more gently “You are finding a way to be guilty, I know that face. So stop it” 

 

Arthur had not shared with Merlin his suspicions about who was responsible for the demotion but now he told of his fears. Merlin stayed silent while he spoke and for a little time after. 

 

“I suspected there was something off about it” Merlin said. His mind had put the pieces together much earlier and his thoughts had been given foundation by the pointed remarks of the pro-Fraser MP at the Pendragon reception. But he had not spoken because he was sure Arthur would take on the guilt – and it seemed he had. 

 

“But I gave them the ammunition” Merlin went on. “I broke the rules and gave them the chance to get at me. They went by the book and I let them. So stop you, beating yourself up over it.” He grinned “this job will be better. I get to make the rules as I go.” 

Arthur was not eased. “What if you don’t get it?” he said “They could take it back” 

“Then no loss” Merlin said “We’ve done fine up to this” 

Arthur shook his head. “You want this” he said “And you could lose it because of me” 

Merlin was exasperated “You are determined to make this about you. Well, Arthur Pendragon, you may be the centre of my world but that’s it. Other than that you are just one man and shit happens that is not your fault. So catch yourself on, and stop being such a mopey martyr with a big miserable head!” 

Arthur’s expression showed his uncertainty but a tiny smile quirked at the corner of his mouth. 

“Grumbles” he said “I’m the centre of his world too” 

“Fine” said Merlin in mock annoyance “Me and dog think you’re the bee’s knee, but that’s it” 

“Okay” said Arthur and closed his eyes. 

“And my parents. They kind of like you too” Merlin added reflectively. 

“Good” said Arthur

“And our friends. They like you too” 

“Uh Huh”

“Okay maybe there are others as well. Maybe you are important and stuff but.. “

 

“Merlin, why are we talking about my big head when we should be talking about your new job” 

Merlin was silent. 

“Because I’m terrified. If the bad guys do block the job a big chunk of me will be relieved” Merlin wriggled around so that he could look at Arthur. It wasn’t easy and involved elbows and knees and some potential bruising to Arthur’s squishy bits but Merlin wanted to keep contact as he checked Arthur’s expression. “I’m going to have to talk to people, Arthur, and I know you do it all the time but it’s not easy for me”

 

Now it was Arthur’s turn to be exasperated. “Oh for...! You talk to people all the time! You convinced half the grumpy farmers in the county to follow your plan! God knows why – you are such an idiot that you don’t even notice what you are doing!” 

 

Merlin grinned broadly “You feel better now?” 

“What?” 

“You called me an idiot. You always feel better when you call me an idiot.” 

Arthur huffed “That’s because you’re My idiot” 

Merlin grinned again. “Aw, Sweetums” he said in a sugary tone. Arthur grimaced and gave Merlin an elbow-nudge worthy of Merlin’s previous efforts. 

“No” Arthur said. “No silly names” 

“Aw, but they are sooo right.... Honeyboo? Snooiukums? Tiddlesweet?”

“Tiddle – ! Merlin! You’re being ridiculous!” 

Merlin sprawled back on the inadequate couch. “I know” he said. “I’m happy. I’m terrified but right now I’m happy” He wriggled his toes and flopped back. “It feels good”

Arthur stood and looked down at him. A happy Merlin was a glorious sight and Arthur felt an unfamiliar bubble of joy rise up in him. He was pretty sure the future was not going to be full of sugary endearments but as Merlin said, right now he was happy. 

“Come on” he said “We’re not getting pizza or any other takeout, we’re going to dine properly to celebrate this strange emotion” 

Merlin wriggled among the cushions. “I thought we could celebrate a different way” he said with suggestive eyebrows. 

“Oh we will” Arthur replied with eyebrows that were not Suggesting: they were Telling, “But first we eat. You haven’t eaten all day and you will need your energy” He emphasised the ‘will’ and Merlin gulped a little. “Besides” Arthur went on “I want to show you off in the suit” 

Merlin grinned. Happiness was catching. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
Merlin’s new job meant that finding a place of their own in London became more urgent. Arthur finally entered into the hunt with enthusiasm, checking websites and printing off brochures. Merlin looked through the glamorous photographs of tastefully arranged furniture highlighting the marble and chrome decor with silent dismay. No matter how he tried he could not imagine himself living in such a place. His preference would be a little house in a quiet area, with a garden for Grumbles. But as he watched Arthur’s face light up as he described the features of the grand apartments Merlin knew he would not say that he felt there was no place for him in their sterile luxury. He had his house: in Abbotsmead, and Arthur – that part of him where the designer suited playboy with the MG still lurked – deserved a trophy place. Merlin could put up with shiny floors if it gave Arthur back a little bit of his world. 

 

They settled for a duplex on the top two floors of a prestigious development within walking distance of the Houses of Parliament. The apartment had three bedrooms, so they could have visitors stay, and a terrace so that Grumbles (and Merlin) could get fresh air. It even had parquet floors rather than marble though they did make Merlin think of school halls and he had to force down the memory of dull assemblies every time he entered the front door. 

 

Getting the new flat meant that Arthur had to think of Mrs. Hudson. He had kept in touch with her after the break with his father, and occasionally met her for Afternoon Tea in a seriously good hotel; something that thrilled her completely. Uther had left her a small pension but with the sale of the Chelsea house she was unemployed and Arthur felt responsible for her. 

He broached the subject to Merlin rather abruptly. 

“I was thinking about Mrs. Hudson.” He said one morning at breakfast in Abbotsmead. “We could have her live here – there’s the rooms at the top of the house, they could be made into a nice apartment and she could keep the house going. 

 

Merlin peered at him over the marmalade. “Where did that come from?” he asked, mouth full of toast. 

 

Arthur poked at his boiled egg. “She’s at a loose end now, and with Marlene going back to study it could be a good idea.” 

 

The Marlene thing was new and was Arthur’s doing. Merlin was very proud of Arthur for the way he led Marlene into wanting to learn more rather than telling her she ought to get more qualifications. But it did mean she would have a lot less free time to spend cooking and dog-cuddling. Arthur’s solution seemed ideal and Merlin felt very selfish that he did not want another person living in their house. 

 

“Mrs. Hudson didn’t live-in in Chelsea did she? Would she really want to now?” he asked non-committedly. 

 

“We could ask her” Arthur said, reaching for the newspaper. Merlin sighed inwardly and nodded. 

 

“I can learn to be quiet again” he said without thinking and, as Arthur looked up, felt a blush rise up to his ears. He wasn’t sure if it was from what he had said or what he was thinking but it annoyed him that he still reacted that way so he buried himself in his breakfast to avoid Arthur’s querying look. It didn’t work. “You know, when we....” he started to explain but words failed him and he waved his hands in unhelpful ways. This was ridiculous. His mother used to say if you can’t say it you shouldn’t be doing it and he and Arthur were definitely ‘doing it’ and yet here he was blushing like a teenager. It did not bode well if the mere thought of having someone living in the room above his bedroom caused this reaction. 

 

Arthur was looking at him with puzzlement until some gesture Merlin made brought understanding. It had taken much time and patience on Arthur’s part to coax sounds from Merlin during sex. Now, Arthur gloried in every squeak, moan, grunt and especially shout he won from his lover. With narrowed eyes he looked at Merlin, blushing over the coffee cups and made a decision. 

 

“Life in a country town isn’t for everyone. Mrs. Hudson is a Londoner, no doubt she’d prefer to stay in the city. Maybe I could look into getting her a house. She could rent out rooms and with her pension, she should be fine. I’d make sure she’d be okay” He would too – he’d set her up very well, just to assuage the guilt he felt at deciding to go with what he wanted for once. 

 

Merlin beamed at him “I’m sure I could learn to cook” he said. Arthur shuddered. 

“No” he said firmly “There are some things you should never learn” 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
After working out his notice Merlin happily took on his new job. He discovered that there had been some pressure on his new boss not to hire him when Tony had burst into Merlin’s office (he had an office – he still didn’t believe that) and indignantly declared that he hoped Merlin knew that his orientation made no difference in the agency. 

 

“I don’t care what ‘powers that be’ say” he insisted, making exaggerated quote marks with his fingers “This is the twenty first century and they should grow up!”. He pulled his rather tatty cardigan around him like armour and for a moment Merlin had the incongruous picture of Tony heading off on an honourable Quest. Heroes come in all shapes, Merlin reflected, and spared a moment of pity on the luckless flunky who had been sent to lean on Tony. Merlin was happy he had obviously picked the wrong argument to use. 

 

And Merlin was happy. He spent at least two days a week in the London office, working with Tony and others on priorities. The rest of the week he was likely to spend on the road – but logistically he could be based in Abbotsmead. There would be quite a bit of driving and Merlin was glad he found Belinda did not strain his still weakened muscles. 

On the plus side – barring emergencies – he had weekends off so he and Arthur did not have to use two calendars to plan any time together. 

 

Grumbles fitted right in to the new lifestyle. When Merlin was in London, Grumbles came with him and Arthur took him into work. 

 

“They already think I’m odd” he said “Having a large dog curled up under my desk will simply confirm it” 

 

In fact Grumbles made meetings easier, providing an automatic ice breaker to awkward conversations, though Arthur had no intention of ever bringing him to the Chamber. 

 

Usually when Merlin returned to Abbotsmead, Grumbles went with him, though once or twice he stayed in London and occasionally he stayed with Marlene. He was now totally accustomed to the car and, it seemed expected to be driven somewhere every day. 

 

Arthur loved the changes. With no more shift work they could predict time together and Arthur had more days to wake up with Merlin and more evenings to bicker over TV. Having Grumbles around more felt right too – there was something about having a furry head leaning on your knee to make you understand what was really important. Bit by bit Arthur began to feel that the London apartment was almost as much Home as Abbotsmead (It would never be completely home – it didn’t have a compost heap). 

 

It was good that home was working well – because everything else was not.


	29. Being loyal

Politics, Arthur reflected was the art of knowing when to smile, who to smile at, and what sort of smile should be used. The skill of politics was much more complex but most people couldn’t care less about the skills as long as they got the smiles. Sometimes he wondered why he took it on – and then he saw the little problems ordinary people had – that needed solutions much bigger than them - and he understood that. The problem was that people expected that politicians should know those small problems and when to smile at them. Arthur knew that real government meant seeing the larger picture – and that the smiles could not be seen in that. But the politician who could lie and smile in the right places would get elected and Fraser was very good at that. More and more Arthur could see the big picture – and he didn’t like what he saw there. 

 

Arthur could see that Fraser was missing things – important things. As Clarissa had noted, Fraser was proving to be a small man, incapable of seeing the bigger picture. His obsession with loyalty and his fear of dissent meant that he would not listen to advice and he spent his time in petty futility rather than addressing the needs of the country. 

 

When Fraser binned a Bill that Arthur had worked on in his previous time in Parliament Arthur felt it had gone too far. The Bill was needed and Arthur had spent long hours working with Civil Servants on the careful wording. It had been held up in committee but was now ready to be brought to the House. But Fraser had stopped it. Arthur assumed it was because the Pendragon name was associated with it and he despised Fraser for his pettiness. 

 

Arthur knew he would have to do something – Fraser would have to go. 

 

That was what brought him to this hotel suite in London. Usually when he and Merlin came to a hotel they were satisfied with a room. This time Arthur booked a suite. He wanted distance.

 

A knock on the door disturbed his thoughts. He opened it quickly and ushered in his carefully groomed visitor. 

 

“What is all this cloak and dagger stuff Arthur” Vivian said “Are you trying to out Bond Bond?” 

 

Arthur gestured to a seat and Vivian sat down carefully, making sure not to crease her obviously expensive dress. 

 

“Were you followed?” 

 

Vivian raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Really? Arthur? This is going too far. I did as you asked, I left the function and took the lift. I did not peer over my shoulder at every corner to check for a tail? You sound like...” She stopped abruptly. 

 

“I sound like Fraser” Arthur said coolly “It’s the sort of thing he would say. It’s the sort of thing he would do – which is why I booked this hotel when your brother was holding his anniversary party. Plausible deniability. Fraser should not know you and I met” 

 

Vivian looked surprised. “What are you up planning?” she asked a little cautiously

 

Arthur smiled. “I’ m not going to assault your virtue” He paused and added “– well maybe slightly” He smiled grimly “ What is your opinion of Fraser’s performance” 

 

His sudden question put her off balance. “What do you mean?” She looked around suspiciously “Is this some sort of... Are you recording this” 

 

Arthur gave a bitter laugh “And you thought you weren’t looking over your shoulder” he said “Look at yourself Vivian, you are as paranoid as he is, afraid of everyone. That’s no way to run a country” 

 

“Paranoia is normal for a politician – the one who isn’t doesn’t last long” she retorted. 

Arthur shook his head “But the one who thinks only of personal threats never really governs.” He stopped and thought of all he had noticed in the last few months. “He’s making mistakes, serious ones” he said quietly. Vivian looked up sharply. 

 

“That’s a matter of opinion” she said. 

 

“Is it yours?” 

 

Vivian stood and looked out of the window. An expensive London skyline spread across the night. Without looking at Arthur she spoke. “I do my job. I keep my head down and my mouth shut and I do my job well. That’s all I can do” 

 

“It’s not all I can do” Arthur said .

 

Vivian turned. “You don’t have enough support to challenge him.” 

 

“Not to challenge him and win” Arthur said. Silence filled the room. Arthur spoke again. “Someone has to stand up to him. Someone has to show what he is doing” 

 

“That’s why we have an opposition” Vivian kept her tone bland but her eyes told of her curiosity. 

 

“The Opposition would oppose even the best idea. It’s automatic. Our party will not listen to their objections. And like you, everyone who sees the truth has been gagged” He could say more but he stopped himself. 

 

“I haven’t...” Vivian began but Arthur broke in again. 

 

“You mean the Whip’s office doesn’t keep you in line?” he snapped. “Face it, Vivian, he controls you. He gave you a Ministry but you know it is not important enough for media attention.” 

 

“A step” Vivian murmured 

 

“And you’ll stay on the same step” Arthur said “He’s not going to promote you. He’s going to keep you mediocre until he can push you out in a reshuffle – to bring in ‘New Faces’. He’s knows your potential and he won’t let you anywhere near real power” 

 

“Are you trying to push me into revolt. Is that what this is about?” Vivian tried to sound strong but came across confused. 

 

Arthur was calm in response. “I don’t think your revolt would work. He’d turn on you as he has on me – another voice in the wilderness” 

 

“So what do you want?” 

 

Arthur walked over to the narrow table by the wall and poured out some water. Now that it had come to it his mouth was dry. He drank, then spoke. “I am going to call him on every stupid thing he does. I am going to stand up in the House day after day, with Questions and comments. With my father’s name the media will pay attention. I will show them the Emperor has no clothes” 

 

Vivian gave a scornful huff. “The party will hate you. The only support you will get will be the no hopers and the anyway for a photo-op crowd. The real players will be angry” 

 

Arthur held her gaze firmly. “Yes – but not just with me. I will show them how weak Fraser is. They will despise him” 

 

“But not love you”

 

“No. But he will feel obliged to challenge me. ” 

 

Vivian looked at him wide eyed. “You won’t win.” she said “And even if, by some miracle you did win by a whisker, there would be no forgive and forget afterwards. You would be as weak as he is.” 

 

Arthur took a deep breath. This was it, his final chance to back out. He didn’t back out. “I know. That is why, when I have pushed him to a challenge – at the very last minute, I will stand aside in favour of a compromise candidate. One who has not got involved in the unseemly mess but has stayed calm and competent. One who can unite the party and country and do the job we were elected to do.” 

He looked at her. She nodded slowly and Arthur respected that she did not involve any ‘who me’ modesty. She knew she could do it. 

 

Arthur continued “From now on you don’t criticise me or defend him. If asked anything you divert to the topic of your own Ministry. When things get bad you start to network – you know who to talk to. We don’t talk after this. No communication. It would look like a coup.” 

 

“It is a coup” she said slowly. 

 

Arthur shrugged. “If it is, it is not permanent. We can all get our asses handed to us at the next election. But at least the next government won’t have major crises to fix” 

 

“You have great confidence that I can fix the mess” 

 

“You can.” He said sternly “You will” It was a statement of fact and a warning. Vivian heard it. 

 

“You understand you’ll never get another chance. You will never be in a position to be leader again?” Vivian spoke quietly but Arthur heard kindness in her tone. He nodded, his voice caught in his throat. “And I won’t be able to offer you a Ministry off the bat – it would look wrong? I might not even be able to do so in the next reshuffle” 

 

“I didn’t think you would” 

 

She met his eyes “You could remain a backbencher for the rest of your career” 

 

Arthur shrugged. He wanted her to go now. He had said his piece. She knew what had to be done. 

 

Vivian was puzzled “I don’t understand. Don’t you want it?” 

 

Arthur wanted it so badly he could taste it. He had told Merlin that he wanted power because of what he could do with it but now he knew he was lying to himself. He wanted to be the one in charge. He hated seeing others (lesser people – be honest in his own thoughts) making decisions. Deep in his soul he knew he was meant to be in that place – be at the top, the one giving the orders not taking them. And he wanted it. 

 

But what he wanted was not what the country needed. 

 

“Your brother is probably wondering where you are. You had better go back to the party” he moved towards the door as he spoke knowing he sounded abrupt but also knowing he could keep his composure for only a little while longer. “Goodbye Vivian. When the time comes you will have my loyalty” 

 

She nodded and then put out her handed. Silently Arthur took it and then, Vivian slipped out into the corridor. 

 

Arthur shut the door behind her, the quiet five- star snick of the door catch sounding as doom laden as any funeral bell. 

 

The door to the bedroom opened and Merlin came out. 

 

“Are you okay” 

 

Arthur shook his head. This was the one person with whom he could be Not Fine. 

 

“It’s not too late..” Merlin started but Arthur stopped him with a growl. 

 

“Don’t say I can change it. It was hard enough coming to this decision. I couldn’t do it again” He felt tears tighten the back of his throat and he fought the urge to kick and scream and have a full grief-stricken tantrum for what he had lost.

 

For a moment Merlin stood perplexed then, with an accustomed hand he led Arthur to the bed. 

 

Pushing Arthur to sit on the bed he set about loosening Arthur’s carefully crafted tie. 

 

“We’ll just get you a nice warm shower and then a good night’s sleep and tomorrow we will go home and Grumbles will take you for a tug and you will feel better” 

 

Arthur felt a moment of bitterness that Merlin should think that these simple things would restore his world but as he allowed himself to be gently undressed he thought that maybe Merlin was right. As long as there was comfort in simple things, the rest of life could be borne. 

 

Merlin knelt at his feet, slowly taking off shoes and socks, gently rubbing his calves and thighs. 

 

“For what it’s worth and I know it’s old fashioned and I know only gamers and such use it but ..”Merlin paused for breath, “if... well I think that you have never been more noble or honourable and I know I am not much in the way of such things but if I was, you are, well what you are to me they don’t really do now but if they did I would....” 

 

Arthur caught Merlin’s face in his hands. “Peace Merlin, thou speaks of nothing” 

 

Merlin laughed. “If you are quoting Shakespeare then you are okay.” And then, more seriously “And I am yours, Always” 

 

Arthur leaned into a kiss. “I couldn’t do this without you” he said. 

 

Merlin smiled in the kiss. “You never have to do without me” he said “But now why don’t we toddle into the shower – clean is good. Clean is very good” 

 

Arthur laughed and followed love into the shower. 

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Arthur planned his campaign as much he could. He set up his own standards. He would not criticise foreign policy – his aim was to weaken Fraser in the party not the country. 

His first attack was on the Bill dumped by Fraser. Arthur did his homework, came up with supporting facts and personal stories and then stood up in the House of Commons and demolished the Prime Minister for his inaction. 

As he spoke he could hear the shuffling and low muttering from his own benches that signalled the disapproval of his actions. More than that, he could sense the anger and disbelief directed towards him from the front bench. He continued anyway. 

 

When he finished, he sat down staying utterly composed. He was well aware that the Chamber cameras were still on him and he had a reputation as a stoic to maintain. He schooled his face to show no emotion and kept his shaking hands out of sight. He had declared war and shot the opening volley towards his own side and he would never be forgiven. 

 

The Opposition were baying in support of his speech but he knew he was consigned to the depths of political Hell when an Opposition MP stood up, gestured to Arthur and said “Mr Speaker. What he said” and sat down again to loud appreciation from his own benches. 

 

Arthur could feel the blood drain from his face and it took all of his much vaunted self-control not to throw up in the House. 

As he walked from the House, MPs moved to let him pass, as if brushing off him would infect them with his dissent. He refused all requests for interview, saying only that he had said what he needed in House. He knew there could be no privacy in Westminster so he abandoned all pretence at work and went to the bright apartment he and Merlin were working to make home. 

Merlin was on the road, based out of Abbotmead and Arthur had told him he would probably out of contact until late. Unable to face the prospect of any of the functions he was due to attend, Arthur spent the evening compulsively flicking between news channels, watching the footage of the events in the Commons and sipping brandy. The “What he said” phrase dominated the reports and Arthur wondered with despair if what he actually said would be lost in the froth – had he sabotaged his whole career for a cheesy headline? 

Eventually he went to bed with the bottle of brandy. 

 

He woke some hours later, with a dry mouth and an uncomfortable head, and the touch of a warm body beside him. He opened his eyes to see familiar dark hair resting on his shoulder. He grunted inelegantly. 

“Hey” said Merlin gently “You’re awake. Did you inhale a whole distillery?” 

Arthur felt defensive and still a little drunk. “I bur’ my boats, blew up m’ bridges, I d’severe brandy” he complained. “Why’ you here?” 

Merlin reached over and put the lip of a bottle of water to Arthur’s mouth. Even in his miserable and befuddled state Arthur acknowledged the concession. Merlin was dead set against any form of bottled water and refused to buy it when it was his turn to do the grocery shopping. Arthur felt guilty sneaking the occasional bottle into the shopping trolley but still liked his bubbly water. Merlin giving him a bottle was a kindness. 

When Arthur had drunk his fill Merlin put down the bottle and nestled closer to Arthur, wrapping his arms around Arthur’s still tense body. “I saw the news” he said “And I decided that someone who burnt and blew up that much stuff deserved to sleep in a hug – and not from brandy” 

Arthur wanted to make a smart reply but all that appeared was a sound that was suspiciously like a sob. Merlin kissed his hair and made soothing noises and for once Arthur did not object to being babied. He lay back and felt himself relax. 

Suddenly a thought hit the back of his brandy soaked mind. 

“Grumbles!” he half shouted. “Where’s the dog?” 

Merlin stirred beside him. “Shh” he murmured “You’ll disturb him. I left him trying to dig a hole in your parquet floor. He was not happy being woken up and put in the car. He’s even more grumpy than you. Complained all the way here. Even refused to get out of the car when we got here.” Merlin sounded sleepy but kept talking. “I heard the security guy in the carpark call his boss about the scruffy dude wearing a dog and heading for the top floor. I’m not sure if I should be flattered or insulted that the boss knew it was me” His voice trailed off. Arthur felt a chuckle bubble up inside him. No matter how bad things were, he had this and this was good. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The next day Arthur had to face two hangovers. For the physical one he could take pain relief - the political one was more complicated. Arthur sighed and looked over at the side of the room where Merlin was head-down, tail-up in the glossy wardrobe. Arthur admired the view. 

“This living in two places is playing havoc with my laundry routine” Merlin muttered “I don’t think I have a clean shirt here” 

“Use one of mine” Arthur said lazily. Merlin glared at him from the floor. 

“And look like a wee orphan in hand-me-downs?” he said indignantly. 

Arthur raised an eyebrow “Designer hand-me-downs” he corrected but Merlin was having none of it. 

“I’d settle for a Marks and Spencer shirt in my size” he muttered, sniffing at a rather crumpled shirt he had found. “Do you think I’d get away with this?” he asked as he stuffed it under Arthur’s nose. 

“Nope” Arthur said, recoiling slightly “Good God, Merlin what were you doing in that shirt?” 

Merlin looked reflective. “Hmm? That shirt... oh yes! That was moving bookcases” His eyes narrowed “Remember when you couldn’t decide where to put it and we spent a Saturday heaving it around this apartment” Merlin gave Arthur an accusing look and went back to his search. “Do you think a batman tee shirt would look professional? 

Arthur smiled and shook his head. “Only in Gotham” he said “Doubt if that is where you are going” 

“Cumbria” Merlin replied. Arthur felt a pang of guilt that Merlin had come to London. There was a five hour drive in front of him. Merlin interpreted the expression. “I’m going to take advantage of being in the capital and take the train.” He hesitated “But it means I can’t take his Lordship” He gestured towards the door to the living room. 

“I’ll manage” Arthur said gruffly, glad that Merlin would not be driving. “Why don’t you wear the coat I got you at Christmas” 

Merlin had the grace to blush and hid his face in the wardrobe. “It’s at home” he said, revealing a lot in a single phrase. 

Arthur was very calm “No, it’s not. You used it to wrap the games console when we moved in” 

There was an inarticulate sound from the wardrobe, which, though large was not intended to be walk-in. Merlin emerged, rather shame-faced. “Um” he said and then launched into speech. “It’s got a label” he whined “I don’t do labels. I am an ordinary bloke. I..” 

Arthur interrupted him “It has a very small label, discreetly hand sown on the inside and you are being ridiculous. Plus, if you wear it even the Batman tee-shirt will be passable” 

Merlin looked at him through narrowed eyes. Arthur threw the coat at him and watched with raised eyebrows while Merlin hesitated. Arthur added “And get a taxi to the station, it’s might rain” and Merlin glared. 

“You are an over-privileged arse!” he said his tone defusing the words. 

Arthur maintained his politician’s expression. “You like my arse” he said blandly. Merlin tried to match his poker face but failed. 

“I do” Merlin said “because I can call it mine” He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Arthur “I can call you mine because I am yours. And I will wear your designer coat and stay out of the rain because I am yours and when you go back to the feeding frenzy you remember you are mine. You belong to me” Merlin’s tone grew more serious as he spoke and he leaned in to brush Arthur’s lips with his own. “If I don’t go now” he added, “I’ll miss the train” With a sigh he pulled away and made for the door. “Remember” he said “Mine” and he was gone. 

 

Arthur stood still, the sensation of Merlin’s lips still on his. How did he know? he wondered. How did Merlin know what to say? In his mind’s eye Arthur saw again the sight that had driven him to the bottle the evening before. The Commons chamber and faces of his own party turned to him with anger and betrayal. Their expressions were confirmation that he no longer belonged – no longer had a place with them. The thought left him rudderless and lost. And with one word Merlin found him and anchored him. He drew a deep breath and felt renewed. 

A sudden beam of sunlight blazed into the room and Arthur was reminded of another morning in another room. Then, in the hotel in Doonshee he had realised with certainty that he loved Merlin and the feeling gave him joy. But in the same moment he had known that the love was not enough, he needed more. Now, with the prospect of his political career crashing around him Arthur came to a new understanding. Their love was not everything. But it was enough. If all else was lost and he had Merlin it would be enough. He found himself smiling. He could face the day. 

 

In the corner of his eye he saw a grey shape slinking stealthily towards the door, a familiar shape in his jaw.

 

“No!” Arthur shouted, contented feeling flying away, “No, you can’t take that. It’s my last pair!” Grumbles, startled by the shout, made a sudden run for the living room, shoe firmly grasped in his mouth as he skidded on the polish floor. What followed was an undignified chase over couches and under tables until Arthur finally wrestled Grumbles to the floor and grabbed the shoe – complete with tooth marks. 

 

“Bad Dog!” Arthur snapped. Grumbles whined. His eyes were too small and too world weary to make an effective puppy-dog look but the look of mingled fear and betrayal he directed towards Arthur was enough to make Arthur’s stomach roll. He fell to his knees, (with the disputed shoe under him – he wasn’t going barefoot to the Commons) and reached out for Grumbles. The dog stalled for a moment then crawled forward into his embrace and allowed himself to be scratched and petted until Arthur felt himself forgiven. Pity he couldn’t do the same for his party he thought ruefully, then gave an un-Parliamentary giggle at the thought of giving senior MPs a scratch behind the ear. 

 

He was still sitting on the floor when a phone rang. As Arthur had disconnected all other phones he knew it was his Merlin phone. Over the years others had been given access to the number. Elena got it when her distress with Val had left her very down. Calum got it when he moved to London. And somehow, Clarissa had been moved from friendly colleague to actual friend. Looking at the phone screen Arthur decided she was abusing the position. He answered anyway. 

Clarissa was blunt “Throwing a verbal grenade into the House of Commons and then going incommunicado is a bad PR move, Pendragon. Not to mention being highly worrying for people of nervous dispositions” Clarissa’s voice did not sound in any way nervous as she spoke. “If I didn’t know that man of yours would follow you, I could have been quite concerned” 

“Good morning Clarissa” 

“Just tell me, Are you planning to leave the party?” 

Arthur took a deep breath “Not unless I am expelled” he said, rather proud that he kept his voice level. 

Clarissa was crisp in her response. “Good. I am too old to change horses now. So, to work. I want you on the radio in ten minutes” 

Arthur choked, but Clarissa had no pity. “Not the Today show, though, frankly it should be – but local radio. You may have given up on national politics but I can still keep your seat” 

 

“I can’t go on the radio!” Arthur protested, “I’m not even dressed” 

 

Clarissa was scathing “God forbid that you should go on the radio in your PJs. Ten minutes Pendragon. Turn on your real phone and smooze the breakfast show. They won’t have Paxman’s style so you can manage them before tea and toast. Nine minutes”

 

In fact it was fifteen minutes later when Arthur took the call from the county radio show. The questions were predicable and Arthur did his best. 

“Don’t you think you are being disloyal to the Prime Minister?” the presenter asked. 

Arthur felt his zeal rising. This was a cause he could believe in and this was his battlefield. “The Bill was drawn up to fill a need” He began “people were being hurt by a gap in the legislation and this was to fill that gap. The need is still there. If I allowed it to be dropped without a protest I would be disloyal to those people who needed this when it was first drawn up and who need it still. I cannot do that. I have a duty to speak” 

The presenter seemed eager “Do you think the Prime Minister is disloyal then” he asked. 

Arthur did not hesitate. “The Prime Minister has his own reasons for dropping the bill” he said without inflexion “and I’m sure when he has time to work on them he will share them” He knew this was another attack on the PM but the presenter did not seem to notice. He followed up with a question about the opposition stance. Sudden there was a booming bark, interrupting his speech. 

“What was that?” the presenter asked. 

“That” Arthur said “Was my dog reminding me that he hasn’t had his breakfast yet” It was hardly professional but it had the benefit of being true. 

There was a squee down the phone line as the other presenter came on (Arthur could never understand why breakfast shows had two presenters – did they think no one was listening so they needed someone to talk to?). 

 

“Oooh! Is that the dog with the cute coat who supervised the flood work?” the new presenter chimed in. Bemused, Arthur answered. What followed was a series of questions on Grumbles – what was his name? Was it true he was a rescue dog? What about That photo?. Arthur answered as best he could and realised that all claim to a serious political career was slipping away from him. Grumbles rested his head on Arthur’s knee and looked at him as if to say, “What can you do” as Arthur was asked about walking habits and favourite games. 

 

When the interview was over Clarissa rang again to applaud the subject matter. “You’ll have to try lose this seat now” she crowed “The Shires love an eccentric as long as he loves dogs. Well Done!” .

 

Arthur wondered about the sanity of politics before setting out to challenge the Establishment, with a tall skinny dog lopping at his heels. He still had doubts and regrets but his strength was restored. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. A text from Merlin. 

\- Grumbles is all over Twitter. You have been upstaged by your dog again. Never mind, I still love you – 

Arthur laughed. It was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I could apologise for being late with this - but a true apology means intending never to do it again and I can't promise that. Work keeps interrupting my writing. It is terrible when life keeps getting in the way of.... life? 
> 
> I promise to update when I can. The last chapter is composed, though there are a few more stories to be told before then . I really want to get them out but I can't promise a time. I deliberately didn't leave a cliff hanger though. Not that cruel.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has kept reading this


	30. The light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been so long since an update that apologies won't work. I got stuck on a plot point further on and could not write so I did the cyber equivalent of hiding my head under the covers and pretending the world did not exist. I finally got this much done - for a new year.

Arthur had to admit, his first battle against Fraser was a victory of sorts. The Opposition championed the cause of the bill Fraser had blocked, pushing it through on Private Members time. When the final vote came in Arthur was not the only one of his party to vote for it, though the point was not made strongly as the there was no Whip imposed. Still, it lessened the loneliness a little. 

 

Work filled the spaces that once were filled with people. Arthur had a staff in the constituency, who dealt with casework and kept his diary when he was there. They were under the careful eye of Clarissa and Arthur knew they were loyal to him only because Clarissa insisted on it. That form of loyalty he could understand. 

But in Westminster he still baulked at hiring either a Parliamentary or Personal assistant. He did have junior researchers who did some work for him but Arthur was reluctant to allow anyone close either to him or his business. As a result he spent hours doing his own research and answering his own correspondence. It was just as well he was not invited to Westminster social events – his old nickname ‘The Monk’ was appropriate again as Arthur spent his time in the office rather than the bar. It wasn’t as if he was looking for allies anyway. 

 

But the cumulative effect was total exhaustion. Arthur managed to hold himself together for the House and for Merlin but he knew he was running on empty. 

 

Things came to a head at a dinner with Calum. It was planned as a formal affair for Calum and Lydia but Lydia had been called away so it was just the three of them. Calum admired the apartment very much. 

“Now this is what I call a suitable address” Calum said “No need for up and coming here!” 

Arthur did his best to be enthusiastic but he felt what energy he had wane as they talked over dinner. Calum was expounding on the glories of PR as Arthur felt his eyes close. 

The next thing he knew he was lying on his plate with a julienne carrot in his nose and Merlin’s anxious eyes peering at him over the table edge. Arthur was quite proud that the word ‘julienne’ was in his head under the circumstances. He tried to concentrate on Merlin’s voice. 

“Arthur? Did you faint? I’ll call an ambulance.” Merlin sounded frantic and Arthur roused himself to reply.

“M’fine – just sleepy. Sorry...” Arthur managed as he ineffectually swiped at the carrot. Merlin’s eyes narrowed. 

 

“Arthur Pendragon, you said you were going to bed as soon as I got off the phone last night – when did you actually go?” 

Arthur peeled a rocket leaf off his check and tried to remember the night before. When Merlin was not with him he tried to get work done and frequently spent the night at his desk. He stared at the leaf between his fingers. He rather liked rocket. “Er” he said, not wanting to admit his plate still looked alarmingly comfortable. 

Merlin had his ‘You are in trouble look’ that was usually only brought out when Grumbles dug up something smelly and left it under the couch. Now it was directed at him – as was the finger now poking his chest. 

“Sleep deprivation is a Thing” Merlin was saying “A Thing. And you have it. It knocks years of your life and Mister? That’s just not on. You can’t keep working all the hours of the day and night, Arthur, you need help so you’d better catch yourself on and get a secretary” 

Arthur knew he should be focusing on what Merlin was saying but there was a comfy Lollo Rosso leaf just lying there... and how was it he knew the names of lettuce anyway? 

“ I have an idea about that, Mez. Leave him alone. He’s practically comatose. You can rip him a new one tomorrow. Just send him to bed and we can talk.” Calum’s voice woke Arthur up. 

“Am not comatose” he said defiantly “I know the names of salad stuff” Merlin’s face wore a kaleidoscope of expressions ranging from ‘Whutyoutalkinabout?’, through ‘maybeIshouldcallanambulance’ before settling on fond exasperation. 

“Come on” Merlin said “Let’s get you to bed” 

“Can’t” Arthur protested “Got guests. Guest.” 

“Calum’s not a guest, he’s Calum” Merlin said patiently. Arthur could hear a huff from Calum but no dispute. He allowed himself to be propelled to the bedroom, where Merlin undressed him in a very competent but unsexy way. Arthur was not sorry about that. He was too tired to respond properly to a sexy undressing. 

He lay down with relief and barely felt Merlin’s soft kiss on his forehead before he was asleep. 

Arthur woke slightly when Merlin slid into bed beside him, much later on. He was conscious of Merlin looking at him quizzically but closed his eyes as he felt strong arms wind around him. He slept again. 

 

The next morning Arthur felt a little more rested and welcomed the plate of toast Merlin placed in front of him when he came to the granite breakfast bar. He was less welcoming when Merlin sat down and said the dreaded words. “We need to talk”   
Arthur sighed. He didn’t want a ‘need to talk’ talk with his breakfast. 

“You have to get a PA, Arthur” Merlin began. Arthur huffed. Merlin did not stop. “Calum has someone who would suit, he’s going to arrange it” 

Now Arthur felt angry. He didn’t want someone else – even a friend – making decisions for him. He said so. 

Merlin’s blue eyes blazed at him with a fierce expression. “You face-planted in the salad, Arthur. That is not on. You are running on empty because you are trying to do everything yourself. Well that stops. Either you get a PA or I get a nanny for you” Merlin stood up to give dramatic effect to his words, but the drama was more than he intended when he stood on Grumbles’ paw. The ensuing minutes involved chasing, then comforting a yelping dog, checking said paw for damage (none) and soothing the nerves of everyone there. 

As Arthur tried to sort out the domestic chaos he wondered if Fraser would find him intimidating if he could see Arthur peering under a coffee table trying to coax out a sulking dog while at the same time comforting a distraught Merlin whose refrain of “I’ve crippled him! I shouldn’t be allowed near animals. It’s the goldfish all over again” rang around the room. In Parliamentary terms it was hardly his finest hour, but Arthur was quite proud thirty minutes later when all was calm again. As he kissed goodbye to a woebegone Merlin Arthur knew he would agree to anything Merlin wanted, if only to bring the spark back to his eyes. 

 

(Grumbles stopped limping as soon as Merlin left – his point was made) 

 

The next few days were a blur of phone calls, research and interviews as Arthur set up his next campaign and kept up the heat on the current one. He had almost forgotten Merlin’s ultimatum when he received a text from Calum

 

FROM Calum  
V Parsons This evening 7pm – gave her your address 

Arthur stared at his phone in bemusement. What did Calum mean? He sent a blunt text in relpy

FROM Arthur   
Who? What? Why? 

The response was typically Calum. 

FROM Calum  
My Boss’s former PA.   
PA See above.   
Cos the next time you face plant it could be a curry, which would be just as entertaining but harder to get the stains out. 

 

After a moment another text came in from Calum   
#  
Mez was scared that night. You need to get your act together and stop messing him about. See her. 

Arthur felt he had no choice and so, at 7pm on the dot he reluctantly accepted Ms Parson as a visitor. 

Said visitor swept into the apartment with all the confidence of Boadicea in a tailored suit. 

She looked around her with a very judgemental look as she introduced herself and offered a very firm handshake. Arthur noted she was slightly beyond ‘A Certain Age’ but her hair and heels indicated that that was not something to be mentioned. 

“Valarie Parson, you were expecting me” Her voice was clipped and strong. Arthur nodded though he was not sure why.

“I don’t do Tuesday afternoon – it’s my bridge club. I will work evenings and weekends when I deem fit but I don’t like rush hour so I leave at four.” 

Arthur stared, bemused. 

“Should you have visitors, I’ll make tea but otherwise you make your own. Other than that I will undertake whatever task I consider necessary. I’ll start on Monday, so do get the security details sorted out by then” 

Arthur was sure his mouth was open but no sound came out. Ms. Parsons stood up. 

“And now I must go, I have some business to see to. It was good to meet you Mr Pendragon, I look forward to working together” 

“Ugh” was pretty much all Arthur could get out. At the door Ms Parsons paused. 

“You know, you are a great deal more articulate on television” she said. 

At that moment there was series of crashes from the hall of the apartment. Arthur recognised them as the usual accompaniment to Merlin’s arrival: with dog, shopping, umbrella and backpack. Sure enough there was a shout from the hallway

“Dammit Grum! There were eggs in that! Arthur? I think your dog has broken breakfast!” the voice grew closer as Merlin burst into the office. “There was a new security guy downstairs. I swear Arthur, I will have to start wear a tag with property of ...” Merlin finally realised Arthur was not alone. He started and back out slightly. “Oh! Sorry! I ...” 

Ms Parsons stepped forward. “Valarie Parsons” She said offering her hand, Merlin took it wide eyed. “You must be Mr Balinson. Goodgood. Now I really must be going” She took another step and there was a low ‘grauooogh’ from the hallway. Grumbles stood, staring, his eyes narrowing. 

Ms Parsons stopped and stared back. There was a moment of mutual assessment. Arthur had a ridiculous urge to whistle the theme from ‘The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly’ and a quick glance at Merlin convinced him that he felt the same. And then, almost simultaneously Grumbles gave a huff and brushed past the New Human towards his bed, while Ms Parsons’ shoulders gave a microscopic shrug. 

“Right” she said briskly. “I think under the circumstances I should start tomorrow. I will be there at ten. Please see to access. Good evening” With a nod to Arthur and a brief smile at Merlin she left. 

Merlin turned his befuddled gaze on Arthur. “Arthur, love, I know I said get a nanny but...” he began. Arthur was already on the phone. 

“Calum!” he demanded “What just happened?” 

“Oh good, she went to see you then” Calum responded, calmly. “That’s good – there was always a chance she’d change her mind” 

“Calum!” Arthur did not raise his voice but he did not do so in a tone that very much implied that voice-raising was a definite option in the near future. “You said a PA. You sent a Dragon!”

“She did take the job?” Calum asked, suddenly sounding worried. 

“I never offered her one” Arthur said “But she’s starting tomorrow” 

Calum sighed down the phone “That’s alright then. No need to worry, she likes you. I knew she would. Listen, I’ve got to go. Parsons will fix things for you – trust me” 

Arthur stared at the now-blank phone. “Calum said to trust him” he said flatly. 

Merlin stared at him. “You’re screwed” he said seriously. Then added “Want to get Chinese for dinner? We could order from the little place down the road and frighten the security guy when they deliver?” 

They had Chinese and the next day Arthur tried to introduce Ms Parsons to the intricacies of work in the Westminster estate. 

She did nothing for a week, simply watching him as he went about his business. It was un-nerving – but Arthur was too Un-Nerved to say so. Eventually he plucked up the courage to mention it – casually – so as not to draw down her wrath.

“I am observing what I need to know” she said promptly. 

“I could tell you that” Arthur exclaimed, with exasperation winning over fear. 

She shook her head, “You would tell me what you want me to know. I wish to see what I need to know” 

 

Her methods worked. The following week she took up her position seamlessly, adapting to all Westminster protocols, establishing first name terms with the constituency office and organising Arthur’s calendar so efficiently he even had time off (scheduled). Some of the strain he had been carrying for the last few months lifted off and he felt more hopeful for the future.

 

He even got to spend more time with Merlin. Granted most of that time was spent sleeping but having sleeping as a thing in his life was novel enough to prevent any hint of complaints. Arthur still had meetings and still spent hours going through facts but he was startled one morning as he shaved beside Merlin to see that his partner looked more tired than he did. Merlin’s pale skin was dark under his eyes, which lacked their usual gleam of half hidden mischief. Arthur would have commented but both were in a rush to work and there was no time. He resolved to do something to make Merlin rest but it was not until the weekend when he had a chance. 

 

Both were off on Sunday and Arthur took Merlin sailing – just to see his eyes shine again. When they returned – happy tired rather than work tired – Arthur cooked and made sure Merlin ate. Afterwards he planned a lazy evening of movies and chocolates but Merlin took out his laptop and began answering emails. Arthur was affronted, partly because that was his thing. He wanted to huff and complain but restrained himself. Eventually Merlin closed the laptop with a sigh. 

“It’s all so frustrating” Merlin said “No matter what I do nothing seems to change” 

Arthur took the opening offered. “Talk it through” he said “Maybe it might help” He was careful not to suggest he could help. That row had happened very early in Merlin’s job. 

 

Merlin ran a hand through his already ruffled hair. “There a just so many good ideas out there” he began “I mean some of them are crackpot and some are good but won’t ever work in the real world but most are good. It’s my job to turn the good ideas into actual proposals and pass them on in fancytalk to the relevant organisations. And that where it stops. Some functionary in the Local Authority or the particular service gets the file on his desk and sits on it. When I enquire I’m told it’s under consideration” He gestured towards the inoperative laptop. “That one has been put to a committee – and I know that’s just a way not to say no in case it turns out to be right. But I know too that they won’t change. No one is willing to change until a disaster forces them and it just drives me….” 

 

Arthur looked at him seriously. “Have you thought of going public?” he said “Next to an actual disaster most people fear a publicity disaster. You could get the local media on your side – maybe..”   
“No” Merlin interrupted him. 

“But it could help!” 

“No” Merlin sighed “I can’t” 

“But” 

“You know I hate talking in public” 

 

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Really Merlin? You’d let your hang-ups stop the progress of change? I could help you…” 

 

“NO!” Merlin stood up and made for the door. “I don’t want to talk about it. You said I was tired – well I’m going to bed, Okay?” 

 

He left – quite obviously Not Banging the Door. 

Arthur looked at Grumbles who was snoozing beside him. “I know I’ve screwed up” he sighed “But I’ve no idea why”. Grumbles gave a long snuffling harrumph and closed his eyes. “Yes” sighed Arthur “Humans”. He felt slightly cheated – wasn’t that the point of being with a man? No incomprehensible rows. Arthur stared at the TV where Jimmy Stewart was talking to a rabbit. Arthur shrugged. Humans. 

 

By the time Arthur had locked up (and given Grumbles his brief-ish run in the garden) Merlin was asleep. Really asleep, not tactical sleep. Arthur looked down at his sleeping lover. Merlin looked younger in his sleep and was still far too thin. Arthur slid under the duvet and tugged Merlin to his side. Merlin grunted in his sleep, sounding alarmingly like Grumbles, but rolled closer. Arthur enfolded him in his arms. Humans had some advantages. 

 

The next morning there was no tension between them – though Arthur knew there was something he did not know. He resigned himself to the mystery that was Merlin. 

>>>>>>>>>

Parliamentary affairs took most of his time for the next few weeks and though he spent as much time as he could with Merlin they did not talk about Merlin’s work. Mostly they talked of Grumbles and whose turn it was to do the laundry. While Arthur wrestled with matters of state and did his utmost to provoke a political crisis this emphasis on mundane things suited him but deep inside he worried about the tension he saw on Merlin’s brow. 

 

Elena called. 

 

“Remember when I said you should try to keep the Solstice free?” she demanded over the phone. Arthur merely gave a political mumble which neither confirmed nor denied. He had no recollection of that conversation though he loved her to bits, most of Elena’s conversation flew over his head. 

 

Elena went on “Well, you’ve got two tickets for Newgrange you lucky bastard” 

Arthur gave another noncommittal response. He had no idea what she was talking about. But Elena was no fool. 

 

“You have no idea what I’m talking about” she said. Arthur coughed. Elena sighed. “Put Merlin on” she said. “I need to talk to someone born on this island” Arthur handed over the phone and went to sit in English purdah. 

When Merlin got off the phone he came in and sat down. “So” he said “Newgrange. You heard of it?” Arthur shook his head. “Big yoke – made of stone – older than Stonehenge?” Arthur shrugged. Merlin sighed “The sun comes in through a tiny hole at the solstice in December – lights up the whole inner chamber” Arthur wondered if his face looked as unimpressed as he felt. Merlin continued “There are only a few people let in at dawn over the solstice to see it. It’s chosen by a lottery. Elena was there in the summer and she put your name in. And you got picked.” Arthur felt he should show some emotion but he did not know what so he went for his bland face. Merlin glared at him. “You get two tickets” Merlin said “and I want to go so we’re going cos you have to be there” Arthur still was totally puzzled. Merlin pulled the laptop over and with a few clicks showed a picture of – well…

“It’s Bag End” Arthur said tonelessly.

“What? No! What? Arthur! It’s a 5000 year old megalithic…. thing” Merlin was indignant. “30000 people applied for the lottery and only 50 got places so…” 

“I didn’t apply” Arthur was sure he sounded reasonable. Merlin’s glare told him he was not. 

 

“Elena did. It’s a gift. Arthur Pendragon you and I are going to Newgrange for the Solstice and I don’t care if you have to break the world to do it” 

 

At that moment Arthur would have broken the world to ensure that Merlin got his wish. He gave a dramatic sigh then nodded. “Okay” he said. “If you must” 

Merlin beamed at him. “You’ll love it” he said. 

 

Arthur wasn’t loving it as he tramped up a grassy hill on a very frosty predawn a few weeks later. 

“Remind me again why I’m here?” he complained as he gingerly picked his way between frozen cow pats. 

Merlin, suitably dressed in sturdy boots and a warm jacket merely laughed out “Because you love me” 

“Well, yes, but that does not explain why I am trudging through an Irish bog at Godoclock in the morning.” Arthur grumped. 

Merlin chuckled. “If you weren’t wearing a posh suit and Italian loafers you wouldn’t mind the walk” 

 

“I have a sartorial reputation to maintain” Arthur huffed as they came to the low entrance. It really was made for hobbits he thought. Inside, Arthur was glad he did not have claustrophobia and did mental exercises to avoid developing it as more people came in and the small chamber filled with enthusiastic watchers. Arthur shuffled and felt increasingly uncomfortable. He was about to suggest getting out of the confined space when a collective gasp drew his attention to what they had come there for. A spear of sunlight broke into the darkened chamber and there was a susurration of whispers as the light crept along the passage towards the chamber. 

 

“Is is magic?” A child’s over-loud whisper bounced off the stone walls. 

 

“Yessss” was his mother’s whispered reply. 

 

Arthur could feel Merlin’s finger twine with his own. “Yes” Merlin murmured into his ear as the light filled the whole chamber. 

 

Arthur was silent as they walked back to the visitors’ centre. The minutes of watching light grow seemed to put his entire career in perspective. Those who designed the light trap probably did not live to see it completed and the culture and language and lives of those who built it were lost to time. Even the purpose of this huge structure was unknown. And yet, 5000 years after it was first made, humans still marvelled at the wonder of a sunrise and felt the stirring of something deeper in the achievement. That much remained. 

Arthur reached out for Merlin’s hand and held it firmly as they walked. Merlin gave him a puzzled look at the unaccustomed PDA but did not pull away and Arthur could see the corners of his mouth lift as they crossed the river and headed for warmth and caffeine. 

 

Once ensconced in a plastic booth and with steaming mugs in front of them, Arthur decided to take the bull by the horns – or rather the Merlin by the hot chocolate. Arthur took a deep breath – preceded by a deep gulp of surprisingly good coffee and said “When you said you didn’t want to go public with your causes – that was because of me wasn’t it?” 

 

“It’s not …. Not everything…” Merlin poked at his foaming mug of chocolate, refusing to look up and Arthur was suddenly reminded of a previous “the-world-doesn’t-revolve-around-you” discussion (row) they had when Arthur had complained loudly that Sainsburys had changed the recipe of his favourite ready meal. He decided to backtrack slightly to prevent a replay. 

“I know not everything is about me” he began but Merlin held up a spoon laden hand. 

“Oh this is” Merlin said “It does involve you” He sighed and looked for inspiration in his mug of chocolate. 

“The thing is,” Merlin said tentatively “For the media, you’re…” He paused and took a reflective gulp of his hot chocolate. “You’re like that light back there – you’re the whole point and, well, they know I’m” He paused again “Well I belong to you” Arthur huffed but Merlin gave him a small private smile – the full effect of which was lost by the fact that he had acquired a cream moustache with tiny pink marshmallows. “It’s true – I do and that’s fine – good even, but if I start make a fuss in public about Joe Blogg’s duckpond it’ll become a political football and that’s not fair to Joe Bloggs types who only want to make a difference not make a splash in the tabloids” 

 

Arthur, trying not to be distracted by the cream moustache, which he had a deep desire to lick off, found the logical part of his brain consumed with the image of a duck pond football. His silence disturbed Merlin. 

 

“See, you’re getting all worried and guilty” Merlin said “That’s why I didn’t say. It’s not you. You have enough on your plate” 

 

Arthur ignored the comment just as he was doing his best to ignore the cream. 

 

“But it is why you’re frustrated” he said blandly. 

“Not really” replied Merlin. “It’s just… well the system should work – and the system doesn’t include mass media so… well I get fed up that that things don’t work the way they should. That’s all” 

Merlin gave a consoling grin as he spoke making the marshmallows tickle his nose. 

Arthur wished he hadn’t started this conversation but he persevered. “My being in the public eye hurts you” he began and gave a swift glare when Merlin tried to interrupt. “I know I talked of quitting before and, well it wouldn’t have worked for me then, but now, I’m better – you make me better and I could find something else to do” 

Merlin was getting agitated, his hands flailing expressively. “Nonono! You can’t do that! I understand it now – a wee bit slow as my mum would say – but I get it now. You are the light Arthur, you’re the thing that makes everyone else see things. And that’s important. You are needed to light up the things people want hidden and you can’t give that up because it’s inconvenient” Merlin’s face showed his passionate belief, tempered by the cream moustache. 

Arthur sighed and passed over a napkin, which was ignored in favour of a quick swipe with Merlin’s tongue. Arthur sighed again for a different reason. 

 

“You’re worse than a toddler” he said lightly “I can’t bring you anywhere” 

 

“But you do” Merlin grinned causing the creams to move so that he ended up going crossed-eyed trying to see what was happening on his lip. 

 

Arthur laughed. He would reflect on what Merlin said later. Right now he was going to enjoy the moment. 

 

That mood stayed with him on the flight home and when they landed Arthur suggested a diversion to a cinema rather than an immediate drive home. Somehow he didn’t want to lose the day. 

 

They found a superhero movie, followed it up with very unhealthy burgers and it was dark when they finally drove along the main street of Abbotsmead. 

 

“Hop out and pick up the milk” Merlin said as they passed the village shop. “I’ll bring Belinda around the back” Arthur did so, noting that Merlin still did not enjoy the local shop. 

 

As he walked back up towards the house Arthur saw a small crowd around his front door. He recognised a media posse and inwardly flinched. What had he missed? 

 

Besieged with demands for a response Arthur merely smiled and said “No comment at this time and let himself into the house. He rushed to the TV and there, in red tickertape was the news that the Prime Minister had announced he would be resigning in January to, ‘spend more time with his family’. 

 

Arthur stared at the screen in disbelief. This was what he had been working for but this was not his doing – at least not directly. He had not mounted a serious attack for a few weeks and did not have a major attack planned. Arthur felt his heart beat faster as he realised he had been left behind by events. 

 

Desperately Arthur searched in his pockets for his phone. Once found, the phone’s bland screen showed no calls. Arthur felt a cold chill flow over him. He was forgotten. 

 

As Arthur’s world fell apart, Merlin rushed into the room. 

 

“Arthur! There are reporters everywhere! I heard on the radio…” 

 

Arthur looked up “I know” he said bleakly. “It’s done and I have no part in it. Not even a call” He threw the phone on the couch with some force. “It seems I am an Anathema” 

 

“Really? If you are Anathema, I’ll be Newt!” Merlin’s voice was light and Arthur felt a flare of anger rise. Merlin misinterpreted his frustrated huff and continued “Oh, come on. You haven’t read Good Omens? Really?” he shook his head “I still have a lot of educating you to do” 

 

“This is hardly the time for jokes” Arthur snapped. 

 

Merlin gently laid his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “No it isn’t” he said softly “And that isn’t your work phone. You left it in your study” 

 

Arthur looked at phone lying on the cushion in front of him and realised it was his ‘Merlin’ phone. Merlin raised an understanding eyebrow and gave Arthur a little push towards the door. “Find your phone” Merlin said. 

 

There were two hundred and forty three missed calls. (Arthur did not even count the texts). Most of the calls were from reporters, one from Ms Parsons (which would have to be returned quickly) and some from colleagues. Arthur’s world righted itself. He became aware of Merlin standing in the doorway of the study. 

 

“I guess you’ll be busy” Merlin’s said lightly. “I’ll pick up Grumbles. It seems Marlene took him home with her. She couldn’t face coming through reporters more than once” Merlin came into the room and fiddled with papers lying on the desk. “I’ll leave you to it then” 

 

“I’m not going to run Merlin. You know that” 

 

Merlin’s shoulders relaxed. “Yeah I know. But… Now it’s come…. You” 

 

“I gave my word, Merlin” Arthur said. 

 

Merlin avoided his eyes “You did” he said “but..” 

 

Arthur stepped forward and cupped Merlin’s face in his hands. “I gave my word” he said firmly “and now,” he took a deep breath “I don’t want it.” He let the breath out and knew it was true, finally. “I am happy, here, with you. I am content with my job. I will not change that” 

 

On the desk the phone vibrated loudly. 

 

“I don’t want to be king” Arthur said “But I will be king maker” Merlin lent his cheek against Arthur’s hand and sighed. The phone continued to vibrate. 

 

Merlin sighed. “Go. Make your calls and make a Prime Minister. I’ll be here when you come back to earth.” He moved away and then paused, his hand on the doorknob. “But don’t make plans for Christmas. That is mine.” He smiled and Arthur felt his heart ease as he returned the smile. As the door closed behind Merlin Arthur recalled the light of the morning. Merlin had called him the light that showed what needed to be seen. But Arthur, with the sensation of Merlin’s evening stubble still tingling his fingers, now knew that Merlin was the light that showed the worth of his life. Whatever Arthur made of his life mattered only in the light of Merlin’s measured gaze and gentle logic and occasional sharp comment. 

 

Arthur smiled again and picked up the phone. He had to get back into the world and find his place but he would ensure he was Merlin’s for Christmas. He heard the back door slam shut and sat at the desk. He had calls to place and plans to make and when the time came to rest, Merlin would be there to bully him to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have put this down as the last chapter. I have more of this story drafted but given my woeful time keeping lately I cannot keep up a posting schedule so I will write the rest as extra pieces rather then leaving this part hanging for so long. (I am tempted to simply post a synopsis of what is to happen...)   
> I always finish what I start - eventually...


End file.
